


The Family Problem

by Onmyliteraturebullshitagain



Series: And They Were Neighbors (oh my god they were neighbors) [8]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Sokka (Avatar), Bisexual Zuko (Avatar), Childhood Trauma, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Family Dynamics, Healthy Communication, Healthy Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Lack of Communication, Learning To Communicate, Lots of love and support by the end, Love Confessions, M rating for trauma and mild sexual content, M/M, Midwest Bi Disaster Zukka, Mild Sexual Content, Past Child Abuse, Romantic Gestures, Zukka in their mid twenties, zukka - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:54:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 41,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27821086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onmyliteraturebullshitagain/pseuds/Onmyliteraturebullshitagain
Summary: Sokka knew that Zuko’s family was a whole mess in and of itself. He’d known that since that night in the accidental lone bed before Katara’s wedding, and part of him had accepted that Zuko’s family was going to remain some odd, shadowy component of their relationship that Sokka would always have to maneuver around without touching it. But it couldn't remain that way forever, and dealing with family and past trauma is what will finally force them to decide how they actually feel about each other and if this relationship is worth fighting for.Midwest Bi Disaster Zukka - established relationship; makes some reference to past stories/developing relationship, so this may not completely make sense as a stand-alone
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: And They Were Neighbors (oh my god they were neighbors) [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1968508
Comments: 1004
Kudos: 765





	1. Chapter 1

Sokka knew that Zuko’s family was a whole mess in and of itself. He’d known that since that night in the accidental lone bed before Katara’s wedding, and part of him had accepted that Zuko’s family was going to remain some odd, shadowy component of their relationship that Sokka would always have to maneuver around without touching it, without tripping the unknown Zuko tripwires and making everything tense and bad. And Sokka could accept that, especially at the beginning, because he really liked Zuko as his own complete entity.

Admittedly, he did put up with Zuko's ridiculous opinions and his general moodiness and his insane sleep and work schedule and occasionally listened to stories about his job that made Sokka a little lightheaded. He dealt with his occasional snaps of anger and the times Zuko shut down or tried to pick fights about stupid thing so he didn't have to talk about the things that actually mattered. So some of that was difficult, made Sokka edgy and insecure and frustrated, but he also knew Zuko put up with his constantly talking and whiplashing between confidence and insecurity and the days when his brain got too loud and he forgot to take his newly prescribed Adderall or he remembered and it made him slow and foggy. He put up with the missed dates and the missed signals and the missed texts, just like Sokka put up with the dodged questions and dodged emotions and dodged confrontations. So he figured it balanced out in the end, and Zuko always ended up in the “yes, please stay around” portion of his life.

Because Zuko was also the kind of person to always kiss Sokka goodbye before he left and saved him the last bites of meals and desserts. He was the kind of person to just prop his cheek on his hand and listen indulgently while Sokka went off about something arguably nonsensical and rambling, who didn’t seem to care much what they were doing together as long as some part of them was touching, even if it was just a brush of shoulders or Sokka sticking his cold feet under Zuko’s legs. He was the one who'd just taken in the stray cat Sokka had accidentally rescued from outside and made room in his apartment for another loud, ginger cat just because he was nice that way. He was the one who’d bought them tickets to a museum exhibit just because it was about graphic design and he thought Sokka would like (which he did), and he’d let himself be dragged around by the Sokka equivalent of an overly caffeinated toddler though the entire museum. So yeah, he was moody and difficult and prickly at times, but he also laughed begrudgingly at Sokka's jokes and held his hand in public and understood and accepted him for some insane reason.

So not knowing about his family? Knowing there was weird dark stuff in his past that made him shut down and pull away, things he didn’t look at and wouldn’t talk about except under the guise of macabre humor or veiled references? He could put up with that. 

He really thought he could.

It was just… after a while, after more than three months, it started to feel like he'd been compartmentalized, kept in a specific little box away from everything else in Zuko’s life. He’d briefly met his coworkers, but he knew next to nothing about any of Zuko’s other friends and even less about his family. It was all veiled and dodgy, like maybe Zuko was embarrassed or scared or ashamed, but  _ for  _ Sokka or  _ about  _ Sokka was what stayed unclear. For his part, Sokka had let Zuko into anything he wanted to be a part of because that was what you  _ did _ when it was actually a relationship, at least in Sokka’s mind. But Zuko was keeping him in one specific version of his life and specifically keeping him out of others, which felt… well, kinda shitty after a while.

If it was something vague and casual, just a no-strings dating thing, then sure, not an issue at all. If they were friends-with-benefits who hung out and occasionally banged on the side, then whatever. But the word "boyfriend" had been said frequently, and they  _ definitely _ weren't seeing anyone other than each other, and it had been more than three months of being well and truly in the kind of relationship that had Sokka beginning to consider some very confusing emotions.

Of course, he didn’t say any of this to Zuko, but still...

So when Zuko had mentioned that he was meeting with his family the next weekend and said offhandedly that maybe Sokka should meet them sometime too, Sokka had jumped on it. He probably, like always, should have thought it through a little more, but instead, without thinking, he’d asked if he could come along this time and meet them now. 

Zuko looked immediately floored, like he'd never even considered the possibility, and that seemed… bad. 

It was morning, a morning in late November they actually had off together, and things had been relaxed and slow and easy. Just coffee and hanging out and chatting about time off from work for a holiday neither of them celebrated and about how the two cats were getting along, but at Zuko’s comment and Sokka’s suggestion, something had changed implicitly, far too quickly. It was like he could physically see Zuko putting walls up, shutting doors again, so Sokka, rather than fighting it, backpedaled. 

"No, it's just that," he explained, "I subjected you to my whole family before we were even actually dating, so it seems fair to return the favor, but we don't have to--"

"No, that," Zuko said, still looking a little panicked and closed off, like he was feeling the words in his mouth before he said them, "that would be… good? For you to meet them?"

Sokka didn’t know how to interpret the up-ticked ends of each of those supposed statements, but he let that pass and smiled.

"Ok!” he said. “Yeah, let’s do it! It'll be great."

But Sokka's enthusiasm didn’t relax Zuko at all. If anything, he seemed more distant, more tense. He set his own coffee mug on the kitchen island and rotated slightly away from Sokka, only the scarred part of his face visible, which so often looked pulled into a grimace, the lines harder, rougher. An unintentional sort of mask, and Sokka didn’t know how to interpret his expression, the look on the visible part of his face, the way he flattened his palm down onto the top of the counter and held it there.

“There’s just… there are things I should probably tell you,” Zuko said, finally turning his face to look at him fully, and he was still guarded. “There’s… stuff to unpack there.”

“Sure,” Sokka said, treading cautiously forward in this conversation, “family is... complicated.”

_ Especially yours _ , he wanted to say, remembering the bits and pieces he’d been told and his slowly constructed Zuko’s History Puzzle. But he didn’t say that.

Zuko nodded, eyes narrowing for a moment, and then he picked up his coffee again and actually moved to sit on the couch beside Sokka. Yet he was still giving off that cornered cat energy, and he leaned forward and set his mug down on the coffee table, elbows still pressed into his knees.

Sokka set his own cup off to the side and reached forward, laying a hand gently on Zuko’s shoulder. Zuko looked aside at it, and then at Sokka, who twitched his head just a little, an invitation for closeness if Zuko wanted it. Zuko accepted, tucking himself under Sokka’s arm, but even there he was still stiff and tense and weird. The seconds ticked past as neither spoke, because as much as Sokka wanted to just start talking to fill the silence, he’d learned that with Zuko and the difficult stuff, he had to be patient and wait until Zuko was ready to unpack whatever it was in his own time.

“Maybe we shouldn’t, not right now," Zuko said, suddenly wishy-washy for someone usually so damn opinionated. “I have a time set up at my uncle’s teashop, but it’s nothing special. So I mean--you don’t have to come--maybe you shouldn't--I just...”

“Hey, it’s totally up to you,” Sokka said immediately. “I can just be your beautiful, illusive lover for as long as you want.” He smiled and kissed Zuko’s forehead, hoping to death that humor and comfort was the right way to go.

He hated that he didn’t know.

At least Zuko actually managed an approximation of a laugh at that before lapsing back into broodiness and silence and scratching at the lower part of his scar.

Oh, so this was the serious Zuko shit, Sokka realized and worried about what he's unintentionally poked at.

“It’s just…” Zuko sighed and rubbed at his left eye. “It’s just me, and my bullshit. And it’s… them too, honestly.”

“We are just talking about your uncle and your one sister, right?” Sokka asked, suddenly wondering if something worse had occurred: disappeared mom was back, dad was out of prison, weird cousin or grandpa or something had suddenly crawled out of the woodwork just to ruin Zuko’s life.

“Yeah,” Zuko replied carefully, “just my uncle and sister. My uncle with his complicated past and my still semi-estranged, intermittently unstable sister.”

"Hey, well, I'm intermittently unstable too," Sokka offered, trying for a reassuring smile. "How bad could she be?"

Zuko gave him a measured look. "Have you ever tried to use a frayed power cord to electrocute your nurse in the psychiatric ward?" he asked flatly.

Sokka tried to find something to say to that, because wow, that was a turn in the conversation. Yeah, this was the code-red serious Zuko shit, and Sokka sort of wished he’d prepared better or knew how to talk about things like this. This was still a Zuko he didn't totally know or understand, a version of the Zuko he liked so much except all sharp and weird and likely to bolt or start yelling.

Sokka, these thoughts all sort of jumbled up together in his brain, finally settled on just saying, "I… have not. So that's… different."

"Yeah… that was like four years ago, luckily, so I don't think she'd try something like that now," Zuko said, sounding only marginally convincing. 

He pulled a little out from under Sokka’s arm, shoulders creeping up closer and closer to his jawline. 

“That’s… good?" Sokka said, simply because it seemed like he was supposed to respond, have something to say into the tension.

"It's just a lot with her still," Zuko said in a kind of exhale, frowning, “being around her, dealing with the stuff we've been through, what she put me through, you know?"

"Um…" Sokka said slowly, “I mean, I don’t really because you haven’t really told me anything about her, but I’ll take your word for it--I'm sure," he added quickly as Zuko's eyes jumped to his, "it's not so bad."

There was a strange, tense moment between them.

“I'm sorry,” Zuko said, starting to pull away. “This is too much. Them, and me, and you, and I can just--”

“Hey,” Sokka said, keeping his hands around him. “No, just stay here.”

Zuko, impossibly, tensed further. 

“Unless you really want me to leave you alone,” Sokka added, loosening his grip on Zuko's arms and feeling sick, “which I can do if that's--if that’s really what you want.”

Zuko gave him a long, strange look and then pulled away from him so they were no longer touching. Just awkward, empty space between them. And Sokka let him, even if it felt a little bit like someone had punched him in the chest.

“I can’t do this," Zuko whispered, eyes darting toward the ceiling. "Fuck, I’m sorry, I can’t do it, not to you.” 

His hands moved up into his hair, grabbing hard for a moment

“It's been good, and if you--if we--" He rubbed hard at his face, and Sokka didn’t understand what these broken sentences were meant to say, what he was supposed to do in response. 

"It's not about you, or us--it’s me, and it’s--but still I… I can’t do this,” Zuko said, suddenly standing and looking down at him again, and Sokka felt a weird twinge of terror at that phrasing.

“You don’t… have to do anything,” Sokka said, trying to keep his voice even.

Did he stand up too? Did he ask questions? Did he try to calm him down again?

Zuko’s eyes were a little panicked, oddly bright. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I shouldn't have--it's just too much."

Sokka shifted, still watching him. "I don't…" he tried, feeling a bit like he'd just stepped on ice and couldn't get his footing again, the whole world careening out from under him, "I don't know what that means. I don’t know what’s going on."

Zuko looked at the door, just his profile visible again, just that more difficult to read portion of his face, and just Sokka sitting there feeling lost. 

Sokka raised his hand, unsure what he was even planning to do with it, but settled for carefully wrapping his fingers around Zuko's wrist. Zuko flinched at the touch, but Sokka held, soft and careful, rubbing a thumb against a bit of Zuko’s palm, the skin smooth and warm. Hoping for reassurance. For connection. For  _ something _ .

"What's happening and what can I do?" Sokka asked, risking it. "How do I help? I just… wanna help."

"Sokka…" Zuko said like a pained exhale, eyes squeezing shut for a moment.

"It's fine, ok?" Sokka pressed anyway, oddly frightened by the distance in Zuko's face, his angled away body. That shut door again, telling Sokka to stay in his little compartment. Something in him rebelled against it. "Just… come back. Just… sit down again and you can explain--we can work through it."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"This is--it's too much--"

Sokka squeezed his wrist a little. "Really, it doesn't have to be! You don't have to do anything, and we can--it'll be fine." Sokka knew he was babbling, probably a little desperate and maybe a little crazy, but he couldn't shut up. "Just come back again, stay here for a little while. Just… we can--we can just talk about whatever this is, and I can help with whatever’s going on with your family that’s--"

"Stop!" Zuko suddenly barked, and it came out like a slap.

Sokka dropped his hand and sat back.

There was a strange, long moment where nothing happened. No one moved. Nothing made a sound.

Zuko dragged his hands over his face. "I’ll… I’m sorry.” His voice was low and flat. “We’ll talk soon, ok?" he said, as he continued not looking at Sokka and Sokka continued sitting there, shut out. "I just need… I’ll talk to you later, ok?”

And then he was walking toward the door, throwing it open, and stepping out into the hall. A moment later, the door had clicked shut behind him, and Sokka still hadn't moved from the couch.

Boomerang whined once at the door and then lay back down. Sokka looked between the dog and the door.

What… what had just happened? And worse, he realized like a pit in his stomach, what the hell was he supposed to do now?

He waited around his apartment the rest of the day, trying to do normal things even while his brain spiraled. He sent Zuko texts while attempting to sound normal, not pushing, not asking, just pretending things were normal. There was no response. So he loaded the dishwasher and wondered if this was just about Zuko’s family or something else. He responded to work emails and sketched commissions and fiddled with tech issues and replayed and over-analyzed the conversation in his head. He walked Boomerang and considered if something new had happened with Zuko's family that hadn't been said. He tried to flip through apps on his phone and struggled with wondering if Zuko was embarrassed to be dating him for some reason, if that explained the compartmentalizing. He ate straight out of the fridge and worried that, even though he'd been trying to take it slow, let it be casual and relaxed, that they'd actually been going too fast and it had freaked Zuko out. He lay face-up in his bed trying to sleep and had the awful thought that maybe Zuko didn't actually want him the way he’d always assumed.

Most horribly, though, Sokka had the sickening worry that Zuko had just broken up with him and he hadn’t even realized and didn’t know why. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm probably being over-cautious with the M rating, but I typically figure I should err toward over-rating rather than under-rating. This is a long one, my friends (probably about 15 chapters because again, no chill) and it's definitely rocky for a while there. But hopefully you enjoy the exploration of the boy's relationship and Zuko's trauma and family.
> 
> As always, your kudos and comments continue to make my day, and I'm always happy to chat more if you'd like. My tumblr's onmyliteraturebullshit again, but we can also talk in the comments. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko disappears for a while, and Sokka deals with it as best he can before they finally talk again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like sitting with them being unhappy, so I'm updating this first bit pretty quickly. Then I'll go back to my more regular every two-three days update schedule as we get more into the "processing" and "working through it" portion of the story :)

Sokka didn't hear from Zuko for five days. 

And he was going fucking insane.

Around 12am on the Thursday after the now-infamous conversation and when he should have been in bed, he was instead pacing around his living room with Boomerang at his heels. There hadn't been a word all this time, no response to anything Sokka sent, which wasn’t like Zuko at all. Nothing to the handful of texts the first day. Nothing to the funny gif that evening. Or the quick question the morning of the second day. Or the attempt at a call, straight to voicemail, that afternoon. Not a word to even indicate Zuko was still in the country, or alive, which Sokka knew was ridiculous to imagine. 

Still. Five days and not even a noise from downstairs, not even the cats snooping around the balcony. And the thought that Zuko was _choosing_ to cut him out, ignore him completely, _that_ stung somewhere deep in Sokka’s gut.

So he was pacing, staring at his phone, turning off his screen, staring at it, turning it back on, poking at everything, turning it off, and pacing. Boomerang, ever dutiful, stayed with him, happy to be included in this odd, stressed out, indoor walk, but Sokka was very much not. He didn't know how to do this. He didn't know why relationships were the way they were or what they were supposed to look like or what to do when he couldn't talk, flirt, or invent his way out of a situation. When it was his fault, when he knew what he’d done, he could work with that. He’d figured out how to fix that in the past and they’d been ok.

But this? What the fuck was he supposed to do with this? 

He stopped in the middle of the living room, mid-pace, feeling angry and sick as he scraped his hands through his hair.

Horribly, inexplicably, he missed his mom. It didn't happen often but sometimes when he was especially low… sometimes when he just really wanted someone to…

He shook his head and pushed the thought away. Thinking that way wouldn’t help, wouldn’t do anything right now. He checked his phone, opened three apps in quick succession and then shut each one again, bored and irritated at once.

And now he missed his dad. Now he wished he could just go over and crash on his couch and watch hockey with him and not talk about anything. They’d drink beer and watch the game and occasionally yell at the players or the refs. Then at some point, his dad would say something like “whatever’s going on, you’re gonna get through it, son,” and Sokka would feel reassured. 

But he couldn’t do that. He was five hours from his dad’s house, from anyone he knew well enough to turn to with these sorts of messy, bullshit feelings.

He missed Katara. He missed her making fun of him and being his friend and needing him and keeping track of him. He missed busting into her house unannounced and throwing himself dramatically across her floor in a bid for attention. He missed teasing her and playing card games and having overly competitive snowball fights. He missed their dumb inside jokes and conversations made entirely through facial expressions when they needed to communicate without all the old people knowing. He missed going on long, meandering walks through Pirta when she needed to vent about friends or school or work, when Sokka could reassure and support and joke until she felt better and he could feel like he’d done something of use.

He could text or call her. He could. And she’d be nice and she’d listen and she’d try to help, but it wouldn’t. And really, it would just be salt in the wound to know she was happy and good and he was dumping his stupid burdens on her. He was the big brother, for fuck’s sake, and he should be able to handle it.

But clearly his brain wasn’t done punting him while he was down, because now he missed Toph and Suki and Aang and all his other old friends. Toph who right now would already be punching him in the arm and telling him to stop being a pansy, Suki who’d be telling him funny stories or talking him through the evolutionary purpose of monogamy, Aang who’d try to give him sage advice about patience and understanding and then really long-lasting hugs. He missed all those people who were easy to understand, who were as simple as their stupid little small town, and who _knew_ him.

For the first time since dating Zuko, he was hit with that heavy ache of loneliness again, of being far from home and disconnected and adrift. Sure, he had casual acquaintances here, coworkers he'd gotten drinks with, people he saw frequently at the gym, the kinds of 'friends' he could chat and hang out with, but no one he could turn to with something like this. Just him, in this damn apartment, alone. And _that_ was really just the icing on the whole shit-sandwich of the last week.

Sokka looked at the clock above the oven and decided abruptly that he wasn’t doing this. This wasn’t _him,_ waiting and worrying and beating himself up over some damn guy who refuses to talk to him when Sokka still didn't even know what he'd done so wrong. There was too much in his head. Too many thoughts and emotions, too many stupid things that couldn't be charted and tallied and diagrammed. Fuck's sake, he was sick of it.

See, this is why he didn’t do relationships very often. _This_ was why it was better to just flirt and date and have a good time and not get overly attached. Why, of _all_ people, had he let _Zuko_ get so deeply entrenched into his life, let himself get so stupidly dependent on him for company and validation? He couldn’t have just kept having fun and playing the field and not taking anything too seriously? He had to do this to himself?

Great. Apparently that was the pathetic kicked-puppy level he was at right now.

He was to the door and grabbing his denim jacket off the hook beside it before he’d even thought through what he’d do, where he’d go. He just knew he needed to leave before he became one of those super sad caged tigers who just went back and forth behind the bars until they went insane and ate their keeper. He tugged on his jacket, grabbed his keys, said goodbye to Boomerang, and locked the door behind him.

He made a very concentrated effort not to look toward Zuko’s apartment as he walked through the parking lot, and instead just tugged up the furry collars of his jacket and focused on finding his car. His breath came out in a whirling puff of white, the trees around the grounds going thin, the air sharp with cold, and he tucked into himself a little tighter.

He needed a drink. He needed to blow off steam. He needed to talk to new people and be outside his own head. 

A bar. That was the answer. He started the car and threw it into reverse and drove, unsure where to go, but at least the streets were mostly clear and the sky was overcast and he could just glare out the windshield and crank up the music on the aging speakers and drown out his head. He should have taken his med and made it slow down, but it was too late for that now.

He kept driving, the city mostly quiet around him.

He needed a place that wouldn’t remind him of Zuko, activities that wouldn't remind him of Zuko, with people that also wouldn’t remind him of Zuko.

Ok, so a shitty sort of straight club then. Somewhere loud and grubby and deeply heterosexual.

At a stoplight, he searched places on his phone and then headed toward the nearest one, which turned out to be a slightly sketchy and rundown dance club in a little parking lot next to a closed florist and a dry cleaner. Great. Good enough. At least there was no cover charge to get in, and he could just show his ID and be into the slightly sour smelling space, the floors just the slightest bit sticky under his feet. There weren’t a ton of people within yet, but it did give off the vibe of “deeply heterosexual” based on the wood decor and neon beer signs and clientele, so that was something. There was a bar along one wall with a mirror behind it and tables clustered on another side and a small, mostly empty dance floor toward the back, already spinning with disco lights. At least the music was loud and throbbed a little bit in his chest, which was preferable to hearing his own thoughts or feeling his own feelings. Sokka stuffed his hands into his pockets and headed toward the bar.

Once there, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket and hated himself for the lurch of excitement he got. But that didn’t stop him from checking it, some vague hope rising up his throat that it would be fine, that it was Zuko actually explaining, actually wanting him.

It was a text from some weird organization that referred to him as “Valerie” and reminded him to contact his state senator about the recent road construction.

He shut off his phone completely and dumped it back in his pocket.

By then the bartender was there, waiting for him to order, and Sokka had no idea.

“Just give me whatever drink is on special tonight,” he said, “as long as it’s got a lot of booze in it.”

The bartender actually gave a light laugh at that and nodded, turning around to fill a glass with ice and a smattering of other things that led to a pale yellowish drink that he then garnished with a lemon wedge. Sokka paid in most of the cash he had left and took a drink, glad to have something to hold, to be somewhere other than his damn apartment.

Drink in hand, he wandered toward the dance floor where he could watch the handful of people already there. Sokka leaned back against a wood pillar and felt the beat ripple through his feet and into his ribs. He took another drink and, without meaning to, looked for someone long and lean, someone with black hair, someone who’d simultaneously make him feel better and worse than he’d felt in his life. 

He took another quick swallow of his drink, feeling it burn at the back of his throat. He was meant to be looking for people who were _not_ Zuko, not like Zuko at all. So maybe one of the girls in the bachelorette party on the dance floor, specifically the curvy one in the short black dress with curly blonde hair that fell down her back. Sokka scanned again, avoiding all those things he actually wanted to look for, letting his eyes wander instead over a pale girl with tattoos and heavy makeup drinking alone at a table, a brown-haired all American-looking guy up by the bar, a dark-skinned girl just walking in wearing a low-cut silver shirt covered in sparkles. He wasn’t sure it was really making him feel better, but at least it was marginally distracting, checking people out and listening to the music pound in his ears and not being in his house waiting around. If the place got more full, he could find someone and dance, get some of the excess, twitchy energy out of him. Or he could chat up someone at a table, slip into a chair and smile and ask questions and buy them a drink. He could do all this. He could be his old self. He’d done it all before. 

He sipped at his drink again, remembering, because it hadn’t been that long. A few months, which in the scheme of things was nothing, just a blip. It didn’t matter that he and Zuko had been friends for a few more months before that. Or that he pretty frequently now slept over at Zuko’s or had Zuko at his place. Or that he visited him at work and hung out with him in the morning and spent a decent chunk of his day curating a rotating collection of stupid memes and textposts and videos that he knew would make Zuko huff in that way he did that was almost a laugh but not quite. It didn’t matter that he’d never cared this much before, or that all he wanted at the moment was for Zuko to appear and give Sokka one of those soft, fond looks that never ceased to make him feel like he'd won some sort of prize.

“God damn it,” Sokka muttered to himself, taking another drink, because he was a failure at this too. Failure at communicating _and_ a failure at moving on, so that was an excellent place to be right now.

“Hey,” said a soft, high voice from just beside him, breaking him out of his pathetic spiral of thoughts.

He rotated a little to find himself looking down at the girl in the sparkly shirt, who up close was a small, well-proportioned woman with round eyes and sweeping braids that framed her face. She was pretty and watching him with interest and the slightly upward curve to her full lips.

“Well hey to you too,” Sokka said back, trying for a smile that may not have totally worked.

Come on, he had more game than this. This was what he wanted, right?

“You look sad,” the girl pointed out, batting her very long lashes at him, and Sokka wasn’t sure what to say to that, because, well, he kinda _was_ , but that definitely wasn’t the sexy vibe he was going for.

“Well, I’m less sad now that you’re here,” he offered, which felt a little bit better, and the girl’s lips quirked up further.

“Good,” she said. “Then you wanna buy me a drink?”

“Of course,” Sokka said immediately, feeling a bit more on even footing, because she was pretty, and she was being straightforward, and this was a script he actually knew how to follow.

Sokka bought her a drink, using the rest of his cash, and then turned to chat with her further. Her body was a beautiful sweep of curves as she leaned against the bar, and Sokka liked the cool, easy way she looked at him as they drank together. So they leaned against the bar for a while and talked about the place and the weather and the other people there, about nothing at all of consequence. He missed her name in the noise, but it didn’t seem to matter, and she didn’t ask for his at all. She just sipped at her drink, lips curling around the straw, and watched him with those night-dark eyes that seemed to shimmer in the low light of the bar. She giggled and talked in a silky voice and occasionally called him "handsome," which was _nice_ , damn it. So he leaned in a little, grinning and trying not to stare too blatantly down the front of her shirt, which showed off some especially good cleavage that was actually really working as a distraction.

“So why’s someone as hot as you being a sad boy in the corner tonight?” the girl asked finally, leaning a little closer to him and licking a bead of liquid off her bottom lip.

Sokka let out a low chuckle at that. “Nothing that matters anymore, beautiful,” he said, which was at least only _mostly_ a lie.

The girl’s lips quirked, and she sidled a little closer so her hip just barely brushed against his leg.

Oof, he could just swoop her up with one arm and bury his face in that cleavage and throat and floral perfume smell. He wet his own lips.

“You get dumped?” the girl guessed. “Girlfriend kick you out?”

Sokka leaned back on the bar, although they were still touching hip to leg. “Yeah something like that,” he replied, not exactly wanting to explain further than that. Plenty of girls got weird about the whole “bi male” thing, and he was sick to death of things being complicated, of explaining himself, of wading into awkward conversations. So he just smiled at her and took another drink.

“Well, here’s the important question,” the girl said, angling forward a little more to be back in his space and to, presumably, get those ridiculously nice tits back where he could see them. “Was it cause you were a prick and cheated on her? Or ‘cause she’s a dumb bitch who couldn’t recognize a good thing when she it’s right in her face?”

“Well, I didn’t cheat,” Sokka replied, attempting to avoid the need for pronouns, “that’s for damn sure. So it must be the second one.”

“Good enough for me,” the girl replied in a low mutter and caught the front of his jacket. “Come dance, handsome.”

And Sokka followed her, because why not? Who fucking cared anymore? He was at just the right level of near-tipsy where he felt pleasantly loose and his brain was quick enough it was just a blur he could ignore, but he was still perfectly able to walk straight. So he grinned and allowed this hot-ass stranger to pull him by the jacket into a press of people. It rose by something like ten degrees once they got to the dance floor, and there were bodies everywhere and a noise level that made talking impossible, which felt safe and right and good. Then the girl was undoing the last couple buttons on his jacket and reaching up to wind her arms around his neck and pull in close to him. Damn, she was so little, her head basically only up to Sokka’s shoulder, and she was all curves and sparkle and that perfume smell and nothing, nothing, nothing like the person he wasn’t letting himself think about. 

She rolled against him, supple and soft, her thighs on either side of one of his legs, and it was fucking _good_. Good to be wanted, to be unknown, to not have to try at all. He could just run his hands down her back, lean forward a little to reach for her waist, smell her hair and feel her body pulse against him as he rocked with her. One of her hands moved to play with a strand of his hair that had come loose and fallen next to his face, her lips parted a little, and Sokka thought about kissing those full lips and feeling the smear of lipstick and getting his hands around some curves again, about just letting everything else go for a while. She smirked at him, like she could read his thoughts, and maybe it was evident on his face. Regardless, she rolled even closer to him, their bodies moving together. 

Sokka didn't owe Zuko anything. He'd tried. He'd done what he could. And now there was a girl here, and she was pretty and soft and sexy, and she was available and uncomplicated and easy to decode. Most importantly, he didn’t feel anything difficult or deep or complicated about her, just the simplicity of fun and attraction.

He almost kissed her. He almost said something about taking her home. 

But damn it all to fucking hell, she wasn’t Zuko, and, for better or worse, he still only wanted _him_.

“I’m sorry,” he said, leaning down toward her ear, and she looked at him in surprise. “You’re really pretty, but I can’t.”

She took a small step back, blinking at him once. He gave her a weak smile and stepped further back too, bumping into someone behind him.

“I’m… still taken. It's stupid and it fucking sucks right now, but I think I'm still in a relationship," he explained. “So I--I have to go.”

She frowned a little at him and then shrugged, face clearing.

“Fine. Have fun with your girlfriend,” she said, flipping a braid back over her shoulder. "Your loss.” With that, she turned and slid away further into the crowd.

“Yeah,” Sokka said, heading the opposite way after a moment and trying not to keep thinking about those curves, “my damn loss is right.”

He got a water at the bar, rubbed the sweat off his forehead, and turned his phone back on. There was still nothing there, but for the moment, he didn’t care. He pulled up Zuko’s number and the attached picture he had of him, one where he was on his couch with Dragon halfway on his shoulder, and he was smiling up at the cat, looking so at ease and relaxed. It made Sokka’s chest hurt. He took a drink and typed out a quick text and sent it before he could change his mind.

Sokka: _hey just hope you're doing ok_

He stared at the simple text a moment, watching it be delivered under the string of other little, pathetic unanswered texts, and then immediately regretted it. He downed the water, set the empty glass back on the bar, and headed for the door. Once there, he typed up another one.

Sokka: _sorry if that's weird everything's fine here_

Sokka: [gif of kitten climbing on a dog's face]

Sokka: _not sure why i thought that was a normal thing to send but there it is now_

Oh god, what was he doing? He stepped out into the wind, his ears ringing a little as the music abruptly went muffled behind him, and tried to think clearly. The air was cold on his face and sneaking into his jacket where it was now unbuttoned, but in a way, it was centering. The buzz had definitely faded with the dancing and sweating and water, so he didn't even have _that_ excuse for why he kept typing things, but he did it anyway.

Sokka: _just know you can talk to me_

Sokka: _i still care about you_

Sokka: _sorry for whatever I did_

He stared at the blatant panic spiral of texts with horror, wondering what sort of clingy seventh grader had suddenly possessed him. He shoved his phone back in his pocket and sighed up at the grey, heavy sky.

Well. That oughta clinch the deal. If Zuko hadn't been sick of him before, he certainly would be _now_.

And Sokka didn't even know _why_ , which was really the painful nail in the coffin of the last few days, especially considering he clearly wasn't done with Zuko, even if Zuko was done with him.

Sokka climbed back into his car and started it, hands cold on the steering wheel, and then his phone vibrated in his pocket. Hesitant and still nauseous with anticipation, he pulled his phone back out and stared at it a moment before turning the screen on. 

If this was something else addressed to “Valerie” about local government, he was gonna throw his phone into the parking lot and drive over it.

But it wasn’t. It was Zuko.

Zuko: _You didnt do anything wrong. Im sorry. Are you home?_

Sokka stared at his phone in amazement, unsure what to say now that he’d actually gotten some sort of response. 

Sokka: _i’m on the way home now_

He watched the texts for a moment, this sudden conversation after all the silence, the stupid little rectangles of communication that he’d been so damn desperate for these past few days.

Zuko: _Can I come over?_

Could he indeed? Sokka stared at the text for a moment, trying to process what the question was doing to him, but finally just typed out:

Sokka: _yeah i can meet you there in a couple minutes_

Sokka dropped his phone back into his pocket and pulled back into the parking lot, unsure what exactly he was thinking, what he was feeling now. After the panic and self-loathing and sadness, something else was twisting its way through his chest. Anger maybe? Frustration? Disappointment? He didn't know for sure, but it was there now, making the back of his mouth taste like bile.

He didn’t remember the drive home, or the walk back to his apartment. He only seemed to come back to himself when he saw Zuko standing against the wall beside his front door, hands tight in the pockets of his black jacket and his shoulders hunched. He looked up as Sokka approached, and his hair was messy and his eyes shadowed and his expression forlorn. Really, his whole body looked sort of pulled into himself like he was trying to take up less space, like he was protecting his vital organs from possible harm. 

Sokka didn’t know exactly what he was feeling seeing him--sad? hurt? irritated?--but whatever it was, it wasn’t great.

“Hey Sokka,” Zuko said softly, and just the very barest hint of a smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

Sokka couldn’t find it in himself to return a smile, even a sad little one like that, so he simply looked away and focused on getting his keys into the lock, as if that took a huge amount of attention. He could feel Zuko watching him, not coming any nearer and not saying anything again, which was probably for the best. Sokka still couldn’t decide if he wanted to just throw his arms around Zuko again and cling or yell at him until he lost his voice. So he stayed quiet until he got the door open to reveal a very happy dog staring up at him. That at least made Sokka smile a little, and he stepped into his apartment and shooed Boomerang back. He left the door open behind him.

Zuko lingered outside, orienting after him but hesitant still.

"Can I come in?" he asked softly.

Sokka stared at him a moment, still feeling that whatever-it-was that kinda made him want to say ‘no’ and slam the door. But he couldn’t. He needed whatever was going on with them to be over, to be able to either move forward or move on. So he just nodded tersely and opened the door the rest of the way.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys finally start communicating and figuring out what they want.
> 
> TW for some references to Zuko's childhood abuse

Sokka moved aside, making space for Zuko to step into the living room, still tense and tucked into himself. Sokka didn’t approach him. Instead, he shut the door, took off his jacket, hung it back up, and leaned back against the wood. He still smelled a little like that girl, which was odd and felt wrong somehow, but he wasn't concerned about that right now. He just stood, watching Zuko. Waiting for something.

"I'm sorry, Sokka," Zuko said abruptly, meeting his eyes as Sokka kept his distance and tried not to nurse that anger-frustration-disappointment feeling more than necessary. Zuko cleared his throat and added, "Please believe me. I didn't want--I didn't mean to hurt you."

Sokka watched him, unsure what to think about that, what it was supposed to mean. No clear response came to mind, because it was just such a bullshit, rom-com nothing sort of phrase. He had to imagine the bruising under Zuko unscarred eye matched Sokka’s own exhaustion shadows, but otherwise he wasn't sure what his face was doing in response to that statement.

Something bad, probably, based on Zuko’s expression.

"I…" Zuko ventured, looking nervous, "I promise I didn't mean to make you think…" He shook his head and scraped his nails back through his hair.

"Finish your sentences," Sokka said, and it came out more clipped than he meant it to. 

Zuko straightened up a little, meeting his eyes, and wet his lips.

"I didn't mean to make you think you'd done something wrong," Zuko said, holding himself stiffly and sounding intentional with each word. "You haven't done anything wrong, and I shouldn't have snapped at you and left like that." He wet his lips. "Are you… ok?

Sokka watched him for a moment, emotions still all twisted up inside him.

"You ghosted me for five days,” he said flatly.

Zuko twitched, although it was almost a flinch. "I know," he said, voice still mostly steady. "I'm... sorry."

"You left, abruptly, and then just ignored me completely. That's some--that's some high school bullshit," Sokka said, surprised at the bite of his voice. 

"I…" Zuko began, but he seemed a little stunned.

"You could have been fucking  _ dead _ or hurt or gone for good, and I wouldn't have known," Sokka continued, knowing he was being a little dramatic, but he didn't try to stifle it.

Zuko looked down at his hands a moment. 

"It was--I know I didn't handle it right at all," he said, eyes lifted to Sokka again, and then the silence grew between them.

Sokka's jaw hurt from clenching, and he felt nauseous and hollow all at once. It wasn't the alcohol. It wasn't the bit of headache in the middle of his forehead. He didn’t know what was happening right now, and he was sick of it, the discomfort and pain of not-knowing. 

"Are you done with me?" Sokka asked, voice quiet and tight. “Because if so, just spit it out and let us both move on.”

Zuko's eyes snapped back to his. "No! No, not at all. Did you think--do you--"

"Do you need more space?" Sokka continued over him, wanting it all out in the open, to just know where they stood and have it done. "Is this too intense or too serious or something for you? Do you want more time to yourself?"

Zuko looked at him in surprise. "Is that--is that what  _ you _ want?"

"This is about you right now," Sokka said, shifting on his feet and feeling the way the wood of the door hit his spine. He knew there was a kind of sick sadness bleeding into his voice now. "So do  _ you _ want this to be more casual? To take things slower?" He bit at the inside of his cheek. "Just tell me the truth."

"I--" Zuko began and swallowed. "No, I don't want that."

"Then what  _ do _ you want?" Sokka asked, voice a little louder, and crossed his arms, stomach churning. "Because I… I don't know what you want and it  _ sucks _ , Zuko, ok?"

"Sokka, I--" Zuko said, face twisted with pain, the shadowing under his eyes somehow darker. "Fuck, I want  _ you _ \--I want to be with you, it's just.." He rubbed hard at his face again. “It’s such a mess, and I don't know how to  _ do  _ this."

Sokka sighed. "Yeah. Well. Me either. But… I really wasn't trying to push or upset you by wanting to meet your family," he said, suddenly feeling the hour, and the days, and the weight of everything else.

"I know," Zuko murmured. 

"And just leaving like that and saying you 'couldn't do this,' ignoring me for  _ days _ , that's--" Sokka dug his nails into his upper arms. "It's fucked up and you can't--" he swallowed, "you can't treat me like that, Zuko. I'm not fucking doing it." 

"And you shouldn’t have to! I was an asshole--am an asshole," Zuko said immediately, opening up his hands and taking a step forward, although he continued to give Sokka his space. "I know that, and I'm so sorry. Really, Sokka." His eyes were shiny. "I don't--I swear I won't do that again if you'll give me another chance. I don’t want to treat you like that. What else can I do to make it up to you?"

Sokka watched him, the sincerity and regret in his face, and god, everything in him just wanted to go throw his arms around him again and cling on for dear life. At least he knew in some gut part of himself that he'd definitely done the right thing leaving that girl behind. What he wanted, for better or worse, was right here. 

God, he was fucked, but he finally pushed off from the door.

"Just the whole 'not doing it again' should be good, I think," Sokka admitted, rubbing the back of his head. "That's as far as I’ve got right now."

"Ok," Zuko said, nodding a little. "Well… let me know if you do, you know, think of something."

Sokka managed a sort of tight smile, and Zuko still looked, admittedly, horrible.

"Look, I know you've got some shit, ok?" Sokka said. "I shouldn't have pushed for more than you can give me." He chewed at the inside of his cheek and wasn’t sure how to interpret the hurt look on Zuko’s face. "You don't have to tell me any more than you ever want, and I won't bring up your family again if it's too hard. But just--" he tried to find words, tried to find a way to bridge this weird gap again and explain, "just tell me if you're having a Zuko Angst Day, ok? Just, like, one text. That’s all I’m asking. Not that you don’t angst and disappear or whatever if you need to, but just… God's sake, let me  _ know _ .”

Zuko nodded, eyes trained on his face. "I get it."

“We can even make a code word or something,” Sokka offered, taking a step closer. “Something that just means 'I'll be AWOL for a while but I don't hate you and I'm not off laying across some train tracks somewhere'. Ok?"

Just one side of Zuko's lips lifted, but it was an improvement, softened the lines of his face a little again, and it made something ease in Sokka's chest too.

"Ok," Zuko agreed. "I can do that. I promise."

"And I don't," Sokka added, going for broke even though it kind of made his stomach hurt, but fuck it, "I don't have to meet your family. Ever, if you don't want. It’s ok. I'll get over it--"

"No, that's not…" Zuko said, starting a gesture and breaking it off. "You're important to me, and you totally should meet them, it's just…" he met Sokka's eyes again, “it’s so fucked up, Sokka." 

Sokka's eyebrows furrowed, but he didn't say anything to that.

"My dad contacted Azula from prison the day before you and I talked, and he… tried to contact me too. I don't know how he gets away with it, but he finds ways to call us, and he left me a voicemail and…" He broke off. 

"God… Zuko, I--" Sokka began, but Zuko just waved a hand.

"It's--I'm fine," he said tightly, "he just says the same sort of shit he’s always said. It doesn’t matter.” 

His expression had gone strange and pained again, and Sokka hated that vagueness, that expression, somehow more than he knew what to do with. 

“No, Uncle and I, we're scared for Azula, who actually talked to him,” Zuko continued. “That she's gonna backslide. That's why we're really meeting, and I--ugh, whenever my dad pops up, it's like my brain just… derails. Shuts down. Goes full rage and panic." He looked at Sokka with somewhat harrowed eyes. “I shouldn’t have freaked out when you said you wanted to meet my family and tried to get me to talk about it. I know that. But I... I couldn’t deal with it. So I just picked up a lot of extra work shifts and found a boxing gym and hid in my house and had an emergency session with my therapist. So… yeah.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry. It was stupid and immature, and you deserve better. I should have… I know I should have just told you but I’m still--part of me is still--I didn’t want to make you deal with it.” He scratched at the edge of his scar. “That doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

"No, I get it," Sokka replied softly. "Sort of, at least."

“My whole background," Zuko continued, like now that he'd begun he had to force it out, "it's just a shit fest that I can't look at, and then suddenly I  _ have  _ to and--" 

Zuko rubbed hard at his face, and when he dropped his hands, he looked oddly resolved. Maybe resigned. Sokka wasn’t sure. 

"Ok, here it is. So from like…” Zuko spaced it out with his hands in front of him, expression tense and voice controlled, “birth to thirteen. Just…” he motioned to one side of one hand, “shitshow with intermittent pockets of ok-ness. Then thirteen was, you know," he gestured sharply to his face, "and hospitals and recovery and therapy and moving with my uncle. Then like thirteen to eighteen-ish,” another sweeping motion, “angry, fucked-up teenager living with his uncle in a new town, and then eighteen-ish to twenty-one-ish,” a gesture to a different space, “dad being arrested, court rooms, listening to  _ other people  _ argue about if my dad actually, you know, _ burned my fucking face off _ and how that was applicable to him cheating on his damn taxes and hiding money in Chinese banks, and then,” a motion to a last portion, “twenty-one-ish to now: job, marginally stable, working on relationship with sister, and getting to be with  _ you _ .” 

Sokka twitched at the vehemence in Zuko’s statement but held still.

Zuko shot Sokka a look then, something maybe a little desperate there. “And I  _ like  _ the ‘you’ portion of my current life. So much. And I don't wanna lose it because of all this, but I  _ will  _ because it's so goddamn much, too fucking much for anyone to deal with, and I can't--” a slightly wild gesture to encompass the rest of the invisible timeline.

“Hey,” Sokka said, stepping forward and catching his hands out of the air, “hey, it’s gonna be ok."

Zuko watched him, still looking pitiful and angry and scared all at once.

"I fucking suck, Sokka, ok?" he said, voice sounding torn out of him. "And the more you learn about me and my past, the more you're gonna realize it and feel it too."

Sokka stared at him a moment, horrified at his expression, at the sureness in his tone. He let go of Zuko's hands in favor of pulling him against his chest and squeezing him a little too hard. Zuko was still stiff against him, but at least his arms wrapped around Sokka's back too and held on as he buried his face in his shoulder.

“I can’t do that to you, because _best_ case, you  leave _ ,  _ and worst case--” Zuko whispered, breath catching, and it was harsh and angry and scraping. “If you look at it all, if you're forced to be part of it, I’ll  _ infect  _ you with it too--I know I will.”

Sokka held him closer, heart breaking.

"It's ok," he whispered uselessly. "It's gonna be ok.”

Zuko shook his head against his shoulder, still breathing like it hurt him.

“It’s gonna be ok,” Sokka repeated quietly, running a hand up into Zuko’s hair and rubbing gently. “Just… we’re gonna be ok.”

“I’m  _ already _ fucking it up and treating you badly,” Zuko said, voice cracking, and his whole body was starting to shake a little, "and now  _ you’re _ having to comfort  _ me _ and you  _ shouldn’t _ \--”

“Hey,” Sokka said again, keeping his voice gentle and continuing to stroke Zuko’s hair. “Hey, hey, just breathe, ok? Just… we can worry about any of that later, ok? Not right now.”

Zuko made some sort of noise into his shirt and clung on harder.

“It's gonna be ok,” Sokka whispered, wanting to cry but holding it in. “I’ve--I’ve got you. Just keep breathing. Just stay here for a second.”

Zuko shivered but did attempt a deeper breath. Sokka ran his fingers over the back of his head and tried to keep his own breathing steady too. He didn’t know that it helped, but at least Zuko seemed to be calming a little bit the longer they held on to each other.

“I’m sorry,” he finally managed.

“I know,” Sokka replied, still keeping them pressed together. “I know you are. But… you wanna know something that might make you feel a little bit better?”

Zuko curled his hands into the back of Sokka's shirt and made a sort of questioning noise.

Sokka nodded at the almost-answer. “I  _ know _ you--I went in knowing who you were, and I’m pretty sure I already knew a lot of this stuff you mentioned,” he supplied, freeing his hand to motion toward Zuko’s air-drawn life story before replacing it on his head. 

“Really?” Zuko asked into his shoulder, and Sokka nodded.

“Maybe not in so many words,” he answered, “but I’m not an idiot and I can recognize patterns and piece together stories, ok? So if you were gonna  _ infect  _ me, or I was gonna realize how terrible you were or something, I already would have. Ok?”

Zuko tucked his face further into the crook of Sokka’s neck. 

“Whatever’s going on with your sister, or with your dad,” Sokka continued carefully, “whatever you think is so bad about your family or your past or yourself, I… I bet I can handle it.”

“You say that…” Zuko said slowly against his neck, and Sokka sighed.

“You remember I like you, right?  _ You.  _ This. All of it.” Sokka squeezes Zuko a little bit more before relaxing. “I can't--god, apparently I can't give up on you even when I  _ try _ ." He pressed his cheek against Zuko's head. "You didn't somehow  _ trick  _ me into dating you by being someone else, because, babe... buddy… you are  _ not  _ that good an actor."

Zuko grunted against his neck.

"And yeah, you've got some rough edges--some  _ really  _ rough edges sometimes, and it does kinda suck. But that doesn't mean  _ you suck _ . Christ's sake,” Sokka said. “I’m a mess too, but we both knew this from the beginning, remember? We knew-- _ I  _ knew what I was getting into.”

Zuko made a noise again that might have been a huff or a grunt or a sniffle. Sokka wasn't sure. He went on anyway. 

"So I can meet your family now or I can meet them in twelve years or I can meet them never. Ok?" Sokka said, shoving his own worries down. "Just don't push me away because you think I don't want you. Because, again, I  _ do  _ want you, doofus.”

Zuko squeezed his hands into the back of Sokka’s shirt and shook his head. “How do you say something so kind and thoughtful and then end it with ‘doofus’?”

“That’s my charm,” Sokka said and then went a bit more serious, pulling back so he could look at Zuko's face again, hands on his shoulders. “We're… I just want us to be ok."

Zuko stared into his eyes a moment, as if trying to read something there, as if waiting for Sokka to yell 'just kidding!' and then flee into the night, which wasn’t gonna happen.

"I don't deserve you," he muttered finally, eyes a bit shiny again.

"Well then lucky you, huh? 'cause you've got me--my  _ god,  _ have you got me," Sokka replied, holding Zuko's face and thinking briefly of a pretty girl at a bar who didn't hold the tiniest candle to the man in front of him. "Let it happen, idiot, or dump me for real."

"God no," Zuko said, a flash of nervousness going across his face, and he curled his hands around Sokka’s arms.

"Well then let it happen," Sokka said, nodding once.

Zuko watched him again as if considering, his eyes bright.

"You should meet my uncle and Azula," he said softly. "You should come with me next weekend. You’re an important part of my life, and I… want you there.”

"Ok then," Sokka said simply. “It's up to you.”

Zuko nodded at him and then swallowed hard.

"But that means," he said quietly, "you should know. About me. About them. About the whole shitshow. I should tell you it for real." He nodded to himself, as if deciding something. "Then at least you can be fully informed about me and you can decide if you  _ actually  _ want to stay with me or not. All the cards on the table. Full disclosure. That would--that would be fair, right?”

Sokka raised an eyebrow. "If that's how you need to think about it, I guess. So you wanna sit? Or get really drunk? I don't know what your sharing process is."

Zuko shot him a wane smile. "Sitting might be good. I'll get back to you on the drinking--which…" he looked at him briefly, "do you kinda smell like booze and perfume?"

Sokka's stomach dropped. "I promise nothing happened. It was just a bar and--"

"It's ok," Zuko said immediately, waving a hand, "I believe you, and god, even if you did do something--"

"Which I didn't!”

"--you'd basically be entitled after all this," Zuko finished, rubbing his hand over Sokka's arm.

"No," Sokka said, "no, I wouldn't. Don't say that." Zuko met his eyes, and Sokka pressed on. "I was just sad and lonely and feeling weird, so I went to a bar and... found a random girl to dance with." He winced a little. "I'm sorry."

Zuko shook his head. "You didn't do anything wrong." He gave a wry smile. "Who could resist getting to dance with you?"

Sokka snorted. "I mean, lots of people, but sure, I guess..."

"I would have stolen you for myself if I'd been there, though," Zuko said, reaching out to knit his hand with one of Sokka's, but his smile faded a little as he added, "but I wasn't, so…" 

Sokka jerked his head toward the couch, and they moved to settle in together before he explained further, "Being around other people really just made me realize that only wanted to be with you." He looked at him sidelong, still oddly nervous to confess these sorts of things. "I couldn't stop thinking about  _ you _ even with that girl right there, so I left and that's when I texted," he finished quietly. "You know, like a clingy bitch."

Zuko held Sokka's one hand with both of his.

"Well… I'm really glad."

"That I'm a clingy bitch?"

"No--well, yeah, kinda. More just--I'm glad you came back to me for some reason."

"Lots of reasons," Sokka said softly. "It's  _ you _ , Zuko."

Zuko managed a bit of a smile at that, and once again let himself be pulled under Sokka's arm and against his chest, which allowed Sokka to let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding.

"We'll see if you still think that later." Zuko rubbed the edge of his scar. "So… where do you want me to start?" he asked.

"Wherever you want," Sokka said, resting his cheek on the top of Zuko's head and looking at the darkness behind the window. "I've got nowhere else to be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're starting to process, friends! Next chapter gets pretty heavy with this AU version of Zuko's background, so that's mainly where the tags for childhood abuse/trauma come from (although it's less severe than canon, honestly, because that show was NOT fucking around with the abuse and parent straight up trying to murder his kid bit). There's still some rocky stuff for them to work out in their relationship, but I'd say we're through probably the lowest point of the relationship issues, just so you're aware.
> 
> Thanks as always for reading and kudosing and commenting! You're all amazing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko finally shares his history.
> 
> TW for references to child abuse and trauma (most intense description is in the very first paragraph if you need to skip it, but even that's not graphic)

Zuko started with his dad, because that informed everything else: big time CEO, demanded perfection and absolute loyalty, powerful and manipulative and judgmental. Wanted to project the image of a perfect family and would accept nothing less. Only rewarded cunning and ruthlessness and strength. Hit and insulted his wife and kids behind closed doors. Wife tried to stand up to him and protect the kids but couldn’t, and eventually she disappeared in the night with no explanation (it was still unclear to where). This left the kids with their dad, who got more angry because his wife leaving had ruined his perfect family image. Threw boiling water in a child's face for finally standing up for himself and talking back. Then refused to take said child to the hospital for a day and a half because he didn't want to tarnish his image by having doctor’s see what he’d done and question him about it.

"I don't tell people, but the vision in my left eye's still a little blurry," Zuko confessed, "and I've got basically no depth perception that way. But I remember a doctor saying I was lucky I hadn't lost the eye completely with an 'accident' like that, right before he gave me a talking-to about kitchen safety and listening to my parents." He let out a rough sort of noise that may have been trying for ironic humor. "So I can't complain too much about a little blurriness, I guess."

Sokka thought he might legitimately throw up. He also thought he might legitimately find and murder Ozai with his bare hands. He didn't say either of these things to Zuko, who described the whole thing with a sort of narrative distance, as if he'd learned how to turn it into a story he could actually voice.

"Zuko, I…" Sokka whispered, and fuck, those were definitely tears in the back of his throat that he was not disguising well. "Zuko…"

"I know," Zuko said quietly. "Thanks, Sokka."

"Can I…" Sokka murmured, "can I just kiss you really quick?"

"I would--yes. Please," Zuko said, raising his face.

Sokka poured every ounce of care and affection into that kiss as he possibly could, and afterward, Zuko let out a soft sigh.

"Thank you," he murmured.

Sokka could only nod and hold him close again, refusing to stop touching him, to let him go.

"Is there… can anyone do anything?" he asked quietly. "About the eye? Or the scar?"

Zuko shrugged against him. "Not really. Not at this point. Or it's things I don't want to deal with and can't afford."

"Ok," Sokka replied, nodding a little. "That makes sense. God, I just…"

"I  _ can _ ," Zuko added quickly, "look into more things, I mean. If it bothers you."

And then Sokka's heart broke all over again and he was back to trying very hard not to cry. He tipped Zuko's face toward him again, pulling him close, and pressed a kiss to the scar now instead.

" _ No _ . God no," Sokka said fiercely, resting their foreheads together. "I just want  _ you  _ to be ok. I'm--fuck, Zuko, I'm  _ fine _ with whatever you want, and I really, really like your face just the way it is, ok?"

Zuko wrapped an arm around his neck and hung on, and then there was a little while where neither said anything else.

When they could bear to separate again, Zuko finally pulled off his jacket and they both took off their shoes and Sokka made coffee, because it was something like 2am and this needed to happen and he needed to be awake for it. The apartment felt like an odd little bubble, and Zuko still looked tense, the skin of his face lined with strain, and Sokka still felt everything like someone was wrapping giant hands around his torso and squeezing. But… they were in it. He returned to the couch with two mugs of coffee, black and probably a little scalded, and Zuko thanked him in a small, calm sort of voice. Sokka tucked in beside him again, as close as he could be while they also both held mugs of coffee, and Zuko moved to discussing Azula, although it took him a little longer to find the words this time.

Zuko rubbed the edge of his scar again. "Look, you know that whole shitshow childhood I mentioned?”

Sokka looked over at him with a bit of a smile. “Like five minutes ago? Yes, dear, I remember.”

Zuko chuckled just a moment, which was a refreshing sound, and then pressed himself in a little closer to Sokka’s side. Sokka adjusted to put his arm around his shoulders again. 

“Well, I spent a lot of it both scared  _ for  _ and scared  _ of _ Azula,” Zuko said quietly. “We've both got the anger issues, but if mine's all loud and about trying to fight everything, Azula's is… cruel. And clever. All about manipulation and cutting other people down so she's the only one with any power in a relationship. So it's… been a process working through that since our dad's been gone."

Sokka didn’t know what to say to that, what there possibly was to say. So he simply kissed his temple and stayed quiet.

“When stuff got… well, when Uncle finally got me away from my dad--that whole thing," Zuko continued with a vague gesture, "he tried to get Azula to come too. She was only eleven, and she’d… fuck, she’d  _ seen _ what our dad did to me, but she still refused to leave."

"God... why?" Sokka asked, unable to keep the worry and judgement out of his voice. “Why would she…  _ want  _ to stay?”

"Manipulation is a hell of a drug," Zuko replied, took a drink of his coffee, set it aside, and then dropped his cheek against Sokka's chest, which at least made Sokka feel a bit more like he was offering something as Zuko continued to explain. 

Azula had been their dad's golden child: so smart and obedient even when she was young, constantly doing everything she could to be better than everyone around her. She thrived, according to Zuko, in the most horrible way possible: by cutting other people down, hurting them, using their emotions against them. Sokka felt sick thinking of his own little sister, feeling how incredibly lucky he’d actually been to end up with someone like her, but he stayed quiet.

Zuko ground his teeth a moment as he seemed to consider how to continue. “I think our Dad saw a lot of himself in Azula, so he was almost ‘nice’ to her in his fucked-up way. Not really, but he praised her and encouraged her and, I mean, he didn't hit or insult her because she wasn't a dumb failure like her brother--"

"You are  _ not  _ dumb or a failure!" Sokka said fiercely, like some sort of reflex, and squeezed him tight out of some innate need to protect. "God, Zuko, you know none of that is true, right?"

Zuko took a deep breath and let it out slowly. 

"Thanks, sweetheart. God you’re nice to me," he muttered, "but yeah, I know what my dad said about me wasn’t true--isn’t true. But at the time, I wasn’t good enough at anything,  _ especially _ compared to Azula. And then you add in that I’m  _ emotional  _ and _different_ __ and yeah… that’s not a kid my dad can use to his benefit.” Zuko shook his head. “And  _ then  _ you add me getting angry and arguing with him and challenging him? Well..."

Sokka sat with that a moment, feeling the way it ate at his gut.

"So, like, should I tell you how great you are more often?" he asked finally. "Just a constant shower of praise every second I see you until I make up for your childhood? Is that where we're at?"

Zuko shook his head, grinning wryly. "God, please don't--and after this week, shit, I'm the one who should be showering  _ you _ with praise."

"Yeah, well," Sokka said, nuzzling into his hair. "We're ok. I… understand a little more now why you reacted the way you did. Not  _ entirely  _ but… enough, I think."

"Well, it's more than I deserve, so…" Zuko said, and Sokka squeezed his arm.

"Let it happen," Sokka grunted. "You're still awesome, and your dad can eat a giant bag of dicks before I punch him in the throat."

"Sounds great," Zuko murmured, looking back up at him with a soft, almost smile. "You're my big, sweet, throat-punching puppy-dog."

"Damn right I am," Sokka replied. "But anyway. You were talking about Azula?"

Zuko nodded and sighed, looking back out at the room. "Yeah, so then her only competition for Dad's attention and affection was out of the picture, so why wouldn't she stay? He had her fully convinced that everyone else was weak or stupid or shitty, so no matter how much Uncle kept fighting and reaching out to her, Azula just kept trying to be Dad’s one good child.” His tone went darkly sarcastic. "Who gives a fuck if he was constantly gaslighting and controlling her as long as he kept saying how good and useful she was to him?"

Sokka held him a little bit closer, because god did that make him hurt. For Zuko. For Azula. For just… all of it. 

“How long am I allowed to keep cuddling you?” he asked.

“As long as you still want to. Until you get bored or hungry or something,” Zuko replied quietly, nestling closer.

“I may never let you leave this couch again,” Sokka grumbled back. “Or you’re gonna have to do your EMT stuff while wearing me like a backpack, because I might have to just keep cuddling you forever.”

“That might be a fun added challenge,” Zuko replied, “but probably not legal.”

“Well then for now…” Sokka said and tugged him basically up into his lap where he could wrap both arms around him as much as possible, and Zuko actually curled up against his chest (which was impressive considering the lack of size difference between them) and didn’t try to get away.

After a moment, Sokka did ask quietly, “So what happened between then and… the psychiatric hospital? If you don't mind. Otherwise, we can totally just focus on the cuddling and leave it alone--"

“Nah, it's ok,” Zuko murmured. “You deserve to know, and it's probably time, especially if you’re actually gonna meet her." 

He groaned and dragged a hand down his face and then explained how their dad started to push Azula even more, demanding insane standards even she couldn't reach, so he began pushing her away too, growing distant and belittling and cold.

Zuko shook his head. "She was too totally consumed to process being mistreated by the one person who'd made himself the focus of her whole life, and her brain just…” He made a shattering gesture with his hand and shook his head.

“God, that’s awful,” Sokka whispered.

“Yeah. It is,” Zuko replied, and he tucked his head against Sokka's shoulder. "Then when all the legal stuff finally caught up with our dad, she started spiraling. And then he went to prison and she really had no one left…" Zuko broke off, and Sokka hugged him tighter again and just held him for a little while, everything silent except for Boomerang's padding over to try to shove his face between Sokka and Zuko in his own show of solidarity. 

They talked late into the night, about how Zuko had tried on and off to interact with Azula once he was living with his uncle and especially once their dad was gone and about how she’d been hospitalized for her own safety and the safety of others for years after. Zuko talked about the process of them reconnecting, mitigated by Azula's doctors and psychologists and Zuko's therapist and their uncle and sometimes even more people like lawyers and social workers. He talked about the more recent Azula, who was healing and learning how to exist without someone pulling her strings and encouraging every vicious and competitive thought in her head, which Sokka had to assume was a good thing. But how successful she was at this varied day to day according to Zuko, which is why he worried. 

"But every time our dad finds a way to get to her," Zuko muttered, rubbing his face, "it's like she and I both slide back ten years and it's not fucking _ fair _ and I need to see her… but I also  _ really _ don't want to because… I don't like the person I am around her..." He gestured to his chest, and his voice was rough, scraping out of him like it burned.

Sokka listened and held him and offered comments and questions when it felt right, but he also knew there were things Zuko still didn't or couldn't say about growing up pitted against his sister and constantly designed to lose, about what that had done to him as a person, the fears that still lingered and prickled at him and made him closed off and angry and distant. Like he had been the past week, which still stung a little bit even as Sokka tried to let it go.

When Zuko had finally talked himself out, raspy and tired, it was well into the pale hours of the morning when everything was turning from black to blue outside. The coffee was gone or cold, Boomerang had long ago fallen asleep in his dog bed over by Sokka's work desk, and Sokka's limbs were stiff with sitting in the same position for so long. He stifled a yawn, rubbing a hand through his hair, and Zuko took that opportunity to move out of Sokka's arms so he could face him.

"So?" Zuko asked, oddly nervous.

Sokka's brow furrowed. "So what?"

"What's the verdict?"

"On?"

Zuko took a deep breath and let it out. 

"On me," he said. 

Sokka blinked at him once, exhausted and sad and wrung out, but also still confused.

"Hearing all of it, and possibly being forced to be part of it next weekend, I’ll understand if that’s not what you signed up for, or if it’s too much to try to handle,” Zuko explained slowly, “really I will, because you need to do what’s best for you. We can go our separate ways with no hard feelings at all.” 

Sokka could almost see the guards Zuko was putting up again, the careful way he articulated each word, the composed set of his body.

“What're you saying?” Sokka asked, that nervousness in his stomach again.

Zuko’s expression was sad but understanding. 

"Do you still want me, Sokka?" he asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously I am making what I will of canon and not addressing the ATLA comics at all. Hopefully the revised timeline and situations is clear, but if it's not for whatever reason, feel free to ask any questions in the comments (or suggest changes to make it clearer when/how things take place).
> 
> As always, I hugely appreciate you all reading and commenting!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka answers Zuko's question in the best way he knows how (here's the mild and implied sexual content just so you're aware).

The question was asked with such gentleness, such honesty, that any lingering resentment felt far away, and Sokka instead was pretty sure someone had sledgehammered at his heart. He stood up.

"Come here," he whispered.

Zuko obeyed, still looking a bit tense, waiting for Sokka to bring down his judgement.

Sokka's judgement was to grab him under the thighs and haul Zuko up into his arms and against his middle, which wasn't easy considering Zuko's size. But Sokka was stubborn and the broader of the two of them, and Zuko also had an immediate reaction of wrapping his arms around Sokka’s shoulders and holding some of the weight that way as well as locking his legs against his sides. Most importantly, Sokka needed to hold him, so he was gonna make it work. 

" _Yes_ I still want you," he said vehemently to the bright eyes staring down at him. “God yes, I still want you, ok?"

Zuko held on to Sokka's shoulders and nodded, just once.

"Do you still want _me_?” Sokka asked, watching his face and ignoring the ache in his muscles and in his chest.

“Yes,” Zuko said immediately. “ _Yes_.”

“Ok then.” Sokka hoisted him higher and took a step away from the couch. “I care so much about you it hurts sometimes. It's fucking ridiculous. Do you get that?"

Zuko swallowed, eyes still haunted. "I... yeah. I think I do."

"Good," Sokka murmured, an odd lurch of possession and longing rallying up inside him. "Now fucking kiss me, because unless you're hugely opposed, I'm taking you to bed.”

And Zuko was apparently _not_ opposed and bent to kiss him with absolutely no hesitation as Sokka carried him back to his bedroom. He paused once against the wall in the hallway because Zuko was heavy and also because Sokka needed to kiss him back, needed to bury his face in the skin of his neck. Zuko's hands scraped through his hair, tugging it free and gathering it in his fists.

"God, I want you--I need…" he murmured, pulling Sokka's face back up to him again.

"Yeah me too," Sokka replied and moved back toward the bedroom again.

Once there, Sokka dumped him on the bed, and Zuko grunted in surprise as he landed. Sokka looked once at those fervent, aching eyes and immediately yanked his shirt off over his head and climbed in to hover over where Zuko lay. They both needed to sleep, of course, because Sokka knew they were both exhausted and sad and torn up inside, but they were also finally back together. It was something innate in him, that need to protect, to defend. Sokka felt it burning there like a coal in his middle, that this was someone he cared about, that this was someone he could shelter. So before they could sleep, Sokka needed to shield Zuko with his body and kiss him until Zuko understood, until he knew somehow what Sokka was saying when he held him close or knitted their hands together and pressed him down. It was a little possessive, a little more fierce than he'd normally be, but he watched Zuko's reaction, constantly gauged his response, and realized maybe Zuko needed it to. Needed Sokka to peel him out of his remaining layers and then just touch and kiss every part of him with a reverence that was probably supposed to be reserved for worship. And Sokka wanted to, wanted everything. He was so bone-weary, so washed with hurt, he didn't care about anything but the feel of Zuko on his mouth and the need to get closer, to be connected again. He needed to touch and hold and caress until that lingering tension unspooled from Zuko's shoulders, until he could trust that Zuko was still here and wouldn't disappear from beneath him and leave him again.

"Zuko, I--" he whispered into the other man's shoulder after a while, but even he couldn't find any good words, anything that explained that fear and insecurity still in him.

"I've got you," was all Zuko said, understanding anyway, and he rolled them over so he was across Sokka hips, holding him down now, warm and covering. "I've got you."

And he knew, somehow, what Sokka needed. That he needed Zuko to touch him too, needed his lips on the palms of his hands and his inner wrists, on his face and his chest and his eyelids. He needed the strokes of fingers over his scalp and down his neck, over the too-tight muscles in his back, needed hands wrapped around him, drifting over him. He needed Zuko to do more of the talking, to lick more apologies into the hollow of his throat and the inside of his thighs, to murmur adoration as he rocked into him, to be sure and steady for a little while. He needed those hands holding him until he shook and his own heart stopped hurting too. 

They moved together, safely bracketed by the other's body, until they both forgot about anything but that room and that moment. 

"Thank you," Zuko murmured afterward while they lay side by side, and Sokka actually laughed.

"That good, huh?" he asked, tipping his head to look at Zuko again. 

The other man rolled his eyes, although he was also grinning just a little from where he lay on his stomach, cheek propped on his hand.

"Thank you for…" he gestured back toward the living room, face going serious again, "all that."

Sokka rolled onto his side to face him. "Thanks for telling me," he replied, watching his face. "Really. I know that… can't have been easy."

"Yeah…" Zuko admitted, “but any time I imagined telling someone all of it for once, I never considered 'pick me up and carry me to bed' as a possible reaction. So… thanks for that.”

Sokka reached out and stroked the hair away from his forehead, chest clenching again. “Did you really think I’d say ‘no, I’m done’ and make you leave?” he asked quietly.

Zuko gave a kind of awkward shrug and rolled over to his back, tugging the blankets along with him. “You could have,” he answered. “I would’ve understood.”

He said it so calmly, so devoid of emotion, that Sokka hated it.

“Hey remember that whole ‘never stop cuddling you’ thing?” Sokka asked and scooted a little closer.

Zuko shot him a wane smile and allowed himself to be pulled back into Sokka’s arms again. And Sokka just buried his face in Zuko’s hair and the warm smell of him until he felt confident that the world couldn't touch either of them at least until morning.

They both called in sick to work the next day. Well, Sokka called in sick and Zuko carefully orchestrated someone to cover his shift, but either way, they went back to sleep for the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, full snarled up together in the blankets. Even once they got up, there was no plan, no sense of what they should be doing. Time, normalcy, it had lost all meaning, and they probably should have talked more. There were more things to say that still ate at Sokka's stomach, that muttered in the back of his mind.

But god, he was sick of thinking and talking and dealing with feelings, and Zuko had clearly already been through enough without dealing with Sokka’s lingering shit. 

So instead he ended up pinning Zuko to the wall in the hallway loud enough that the other neighbor probably thought something bad was happening. But it wasn’t bad, not at all. Sokka pressed his body into Zuko’s and twisted their hands up together against the wall, both already breathing hard. He knew, objectively, that Zuko could easily shove him off if he wanted (Zuko, for as slender as he was, was a little taller and all muscle after all), but he let himself be pushed back, let Sokka lead and lick and bite and lock them together.

"I didn't know you had this side of you," Zuko admitted, squeezing their joined hands.

"Yeah, I didn't really either," Sokka admitted against his throat as he pressed kissed into it. "You bring it out in me--that ok?"

"Fucking god, yes," Zuko murmured back, shifting to get their faces back together to kiss again.

They kissed harder until everything was a bit wet and Zuko's lips were red with it. Sokka let his hands go and cupped the back of his neck, panting a little as he tucked his head and nudged their hips together again in a way that made Zuko shiver.

"God, I…" Zuko muttered.

"What do you want?" Sokka replied, stroking his fingers over the nape of his neck.

Zuko reached out and caught his jaw, pulling his head up with an unexpected ferocity. Sokka gave a bit of a smile, watching the heat in Zuko's eyes.

"I want _you_ ," Zuko breathed, staring back, maybe a little desperate, maybe still a little raw, "whatever you want to give me, Sokka. Please."

Sokka's chest hurt a little again, but he wasn't thinking about it, wasn't looking at it.

"I'd give you anything," he murmured, shutting his eyes for a moment as they just leaned together, "god, anything you asked for…" He shoved that away too, the worry of what a declaration like that meant for his own mental state. So he simply kissed him again and finished, "But for now…"

Then he dropped to his knees and made it impossible for either of them to talk even if they wanted to.

The next time they maybe could have, should have, talked was in the shower, which really had begun just out of function and the realization that they should probably be clean and put on fresh clothes before another entire day was gone. But that had quickly devolved into very wet and sudsy flirting and teasing and splashing, which felt a bit more like normal again, and the occasional half-assed attempts at conversation.

"Eventually," Zuko said far too reasonably as he worked his hands through Sokka's loose, wet hair, "we're gonna have to go back to our normal lives."

"Yeah," Sokka agreed, getting more body wash into his hand and rubbing it across Zuko's chest with a smile, "eventually."

"And," Zuko said, returning the favor and running his hands down Sokka's arms, his own back in the spray of water, "we should talk more about next weekend, about… how you're doing with all this."

"Eventually," Sokka agreed, poking the other man in the nose with a sudsy finger and rolling his hips against him.

He still didn't want to talk. He still didn't want to look at it.

Zuko groaned at the movement and reached around to grab a handful of Sokka's ass.

"You're the worst," he murmured, thrusting into his hip and forcing Sokka backwards and almost into the shower wall.

"Sure I am," Sokka replied, shaking some water from his face.

"But also, there's more stuff about me and my family you should know, especially about..." Zuko gestured briefly between them in a way Sokka didn't entirely understand, but he was, admittedly, also not paying a ton of attention to that particular part of the man against him.

"I'm sure there is," Sokka replied, reaching to catch both of Zuko's hips in his hands, "but is any of it more important than getting off for the third time in twelve hours because your boyfriend is basically an orgasm wizard?"

And Zuko laughed, which was what Sokka really took to mean that they were gonna be ok, that whatever lingering hurt and worry was still lodged in Sokka's chest would eventually go away if he just didn't poke it.

He wasn't sure that was true once the rest of the week wore on and Zuko wasn't there all the time within touching distance. Zuko was still there in some ways--texting, messaging, dropping by, making an effort--and that definitely helped. And Sokka worked and stayed distracted and actually took his meds when his brain got too fast. But sometimes that was worse, like he was trying to drag himself through a swamp and he couldn't outrun all the things at the back of his mind. He didn't let himself brood about it, didn’t let himself consider anything beyond the present. 

It was fine. It would be fine. He was fine.

That next weekend, Zuko brought him along to the teashop, looking a bit like he was going to a firing squad, but he'd done it regardless. Sokka hadn't asked many questions after that first night (morning? whichever) and still felt a bit like he was tiptoeing around Zuko just to be sure he wouldn't bolt again. Which wasn't a _great_ feeling, but he pushed it aside in favor of standing in front of the teashop door while Zuko lingered and didn't speak.

"Take a deep breath," Sokka said, looking aside at him. 

"That's my line," Zuko replied, face still grim and more nervous than Sokka could entirely understand.

"I know, but really," Sokka said back, "it's gonna be ok."

"Wanna do your family again instead?" Zuko asked, his hands clearly in fists even in the pockets of his jacket, his shoulders tight and his face lined with worry.

Sokka offered his hand. "Come on," he said. "If we can deal with my family and Pirta in all it's nosey, small town, homophobic glory, we can also deal with your one uncle and one sister.”

Zuko looked down at Sokka's offered hand and then took it, giving a small nod.

"Let's, uh, give it a shot then," he said, and finally reached out and pushed open the door.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka and Zuko are all set to meet the family... except that apparently there are still some things Zuko decided not to mention.

The Jasmine Dragon was in the old downtown, tucked under lofts and between a boutique and a stationary shop, and even the front door as they pushed it open was charming in its way, a little bell ringing above it. The interior was cozy and all painted in shades of greens and creams, the walls lined with shelves selling novelty mugs and expensive tea makers and handmaid local toiletries. There was November-appropriate décor on the tables scattered through the middle of the room and along the walls--mini cornucopias and acorns and bundles of fake wheat--and everything smelled herbal and fresh. There were large windows and lots of sunlight and soft music playing, everything inexplicably welcoming. There was some girl in a green apron behind the counter restocking a back shelf, but there was so far no sign of anyone who looked related to Zuko. There were only a few customers inside at the tables or the counter, a few on laptops or sipping their teas and chatting quietly. Sokka immediately felt the hominess, the relaxation running through it, and he looked aside at Zuko with a smile, sure this really couldn't be that bad, not in a place like this.

Zuko looked as stiff and scowly as if they'd just walked through a regular door and discovered it actually led to the seventh ring of hell.

"Hey," Sokka said, narrowing his eyes, "seriously, I'm not trying to be rude but this reaction seems extreme."

"I shouldn't have done this," Zuko muttered.

"What? Why?"

"Uh," Zuko answered after a moment, "I should have told you--like, so many times, shit--but, um, I've never brought a guy home to my family before."

"Oh," Sokka said, eyebrows rising, "ok…?"

"I've never brought anyone home to my family," Zuko added in a tense, half-strangled exhale, still staring at the tea shop. "Just… haven't done it. Not since I was a kid and I could just say they were "friends" but then my dad would still know somehow and he’d--" He broke off. "So I've just kept those parts of my life separate, even with my uncle, and especially from Azula, because I'm a mess and it seemed easier but…"

"Wait…" Sokka said, rotating slightly to face him. "You… no one? What about EMT sweatshirt girl?"

"Nope," Zuko said, still not moving from just inside the door.

"Wasn't there also a guy in college?" Sokka said, thinking back to their 'exes and coming out stories' conversation. "And a girl in high school? You never introduced--"

"No. Just didn’t bring them home, even after my dad was gone. Even when I lived with Uncle. I just… don’t say anything.” He scuffed a hand through his hair. “For all he knows, I'm living like a cloistered monk and always have been."

"But…" Sokka said, running this over in his mind, "how did you even manage that? I thought you guys were really close."

"Yeah…" Zuko drawled. "I'm also awkward as shit, ok? That's not news."

"Ok, you know that 'preparing Sokka to meet the family' convo we had?" Sokka said, rubbing his forehead. "You didn't think to add this little crucial piece of information so I could have been ready?"

"Well I  _ tried _ when we were in the shower," Zuko insisted, going a little pink.

"Yeah, because naked in the shower is  _ obviously _ when people have their most productive conversations," Sokka grunted back.

Zuko made some sort of noncommittal, semi-apologetic noise as a door behind the main counter swung open. A plump man with a large grey beard emerged a moment later, carrying a teapot and nodding to the girl still back by the shelves.

"Oh also," Zuko said, shooting Sokka a guilty look, "they don't know you're my boyfriend so--"

" _ What? _ " Sokka hissed.

"So we're gonna get to that too," Zuko added quickly. "Just, like, gradually. I told him we're friends, and then I'm gonna wait for the right moment to tell him the truth."

"Zuko, what the  _ fuck _ \--"

"What?" Zuko replied, still looking frantic but also like he was trying  _ not  _ to look frantic. "We're just doing, you know, the opposite of what we did with your family. Pretending for a bit that we're  _ not _ in a relationship to make it easier, to ease into the whole ‘bringing someone home to the family’."

Sokka's chest clenched. "That's not at all--"

"I'm gonna tell them! I swear! I just need some time to--" Zuko hissed back, attempting to release Sokka's hand, but he'd gone full death-grip.

"No, this is some shit, Zuko," Sokka squeaked back, clinging on, "and I'm gonna--"

"Please," Zuko said, barely a whisper, and then his eyes were there, soft and nervous and pleading. "I know I'm asking a lot and I did it in the worst way, but I can't…" He took a shaky inhale. "Just, please, Sokka."

Sokka let out a breath, heart squeezing, and released his grip on Zuko's hand. So… Zuko was ashamed of him? Or didn't want people to know what they actually were to each other? Had all that damn trauma sharing and reassurance _really_ not been enough?

Too many questions and too many stupid emotions, and it was all giving Sokka a headache.

Those little shards of lingering hurt pushed toward the surface, and he wanted to smack something.

"Fine," he said softly instead of hitting something or running, which also seemed like a nice idea, "but this doesn't feel  _ great _ , jackass, just so you realize. This is… this is so not… you better make it up to me."

"Totally fair, and I swear I will," Zuko said, genuinely looking guilty. "I’m sorry--again, I'm always fucking sorry, and I know I'm a dick."

"I mean, right now, yeah--who doesn't say anything, warn a person?" Sokka muttered, because the man from behind the counter was approaching and beaming, arms spread. "This is seriously some peak dick for you--damn, that sounded sexual, I--"

"Nephew!" the large man said, and Zuko managed something like a smile and stepped forward to be pulled into a hug by the shorter, rounder man. Yet there was a bit of similarity there Sokka could make out other than their shared ethnic identity: something around the shape of the eyes and in the way they moved their hands. And of course, it would have been obvious they had a connection simply by the way the shorter man seemed to radiate joy at Zuko’s presence, which was… surprising. Nice but unexpected.

"It's good to see you, Uncle," Zuko said as they parted, although his uncle kept a grip on his arms and looked him up and down. 

"You're working too hard again, aren't you?" Uncle (Sokka should probably get his name at some point) said, shaking his head. "How many times do I need to tell you that a man needs his rest?"

"I  _ rest _ ," Zuko argued, petulant, and Sokka couldn't keep back his snort of derision.

"You absolutely do not," he said, and Uncle's eyes moved to him, smiling widely again.

"And you've brought your friend to visit your uncle's humble tea shop," he said, letting Zuko go. "What a lovely addition to our little party today."

"Uh, yeah, hello, I'm Sokka, Zuko's friend," Sokka offered like a dumbass, and extended his hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sokka,” Zuko’s uncle replied, accepting the offered hand. “You're welcome to call me Iroh, or Uncle Iroh. It’s become quite common around the tea shop.”

His smile really was impressively warm and indulgent and unassuming, and Sokka felt a bit more at ease after Zuko's bullshit bombshell. Which was still just… so fucked up. Sokka had been doing so well dealing with whatever weird crap there was between until, of course, Zuko dropped a plan on him that made Sokka's whole fake-dating wedding scenario look like some Mensa-level thinking. 

Iroh motioned them back toward the counter as he turned away, and Sokka shot Zuko a quick look. Zuko grimaced back, and Sokka jabbed him in the arm, and Zuko made a quick cutting movement with his hands, and Sokka gestured sharply toward the counter while his eyebrows pulled together in the middle. Zuko shook his head and motioned between them.

This batshit conversation was ended with Iroh turning back to face them, and they both quickly turned back into reasonable adults again. 

"I'm so glad you set this up, Nephew," Iroh said fondly. "I know it’s challenging with everyone’s schedules, but I’m so looking forward to spending some time with my niece and nephew again.” He smiled at Sokka. “And you so rarely bring friends around, and to meet both me and your sister. A very rare treat indeed."

There was something a bit knowing in his expression, and Sokka had no idea what to say to that.

"Right, yeah, well," Zuko said, "Sokka's just, um, a big fan of tea, so I thought he'd enjoy the tea shop. You know."

"I--" Sokka began, and Zuko shot him a quick, desperate look. "Right, yeah, tea. Love the stuff. Can't get enough. Had to see the Jasmine Dragon for myself."

Iroh smiled at him, clasping his hands on his belly.

"Finally a man with taste," he said, smiling at Sokka again.

"Yep, that's Sokka," Zuko said, only slightly through his teeth, "a guy with good taste."

Sokka smirked and raised an eyebrow, but Zuko very pointedly ignored him.

"And it had been a bit since I'd seen you and Azula, and with… the phone call," Zuko added, expression closing off.

Iroh nodded, looking briefly pained. 

"I spoke to Azula's doctor," he said calmly, and Zuko nodded.

"So, um," he said, "I figured if I was already coming here to see you guys, I'd bring Sokka too… you know, two birds with one stone."

"Of course," Iroh said. "Well, why don't you two find a table and I'll be over with tea in just a moment. Azula should be joining us shortly as well."

"Great," Zuko said, still sounding pained.

"Thank you. So nice to meet you," Sokka said, trying to lay on the charm, and then grabbed Zuko by the elbow and hauled him away.

"This plan is idiotic," he hissed, and Zuko glared back.

"You think I don't know that?" Zuko snapped, cheeks pink. "I panicked."

" _ How? _ "

"Well, I had this set up with Uncle, and I had every intention of telling him before we got here--about you, about us, but then I just kept, uh, not telling him," Zuko finished lamely. "And now here we are."

"Well that just makes it all better," Sokka muttered back, surprised by the anger lurching into his voice. He stopped at a table toward the far side of the room. "Sit."

"I'm not a dog," Zuko grumbled, but sat.

"And now I have to pretend to like  _ tea _ ?" Sokka said, sinking into the chair beside him. 

"That's your primary concern?" Zuko replied.

"I mean, right now? Kinda," Sokka admitted. “How  _ exactly  _ do you picture this whole thing working out?”

“I don’t know, ok?” Zuko said, leaning forward on his elbows. “There'll just… be the right moment. And then they'll already know you and it'll be easy to tell them the truth."

Sokka's face was deeply unconvinced. He knew that, and apparently Zuko did too. 

"Just… please play along," Zuko said, "just for a little while."

“Yes, because you know I’m always a totally controlled and convincing actor,” Sokka muttered, picking up the little pumpkin from next to the candle in the middle of the table and rolling it between his hands

Zuko took it out of his hand and put it back in place. “Just relax. You don’t have to do anything, ok? I’ll… get there. I'll tell them we're dating.”

“This…" Sokka began, "ugh, I really thought you'd actually told me everything." He hated the slightly sharp way the words came out, and Zuko’s expression was guilty and pained again. "I just--I don't like that we're still--”

Sokka broke off and sat back in his chair as Iroh approached and set down a tray with a tea pot and four small cups.

“This can get us started, but I brought some menus as well,” Iroh said, taking them out from under his arm and laying them on the table. Then he took a seat across from Zuko and smiled. “So Nephew, how have you been? How is it saving lives every day?"

"Not sure fishing drunk people out of gutter puddles counts as saving lives, but usually it's good," Zuko replied as Iroh served the tea for all of them with measured precision.

Sokka half listened to the pair as they chatted about Zuko's job, and he curled his hands around the warm teacup. As Zuko explained the whole “gutter puddle” thing, Sokka tentatively sipped at the tea, trying not to burn his tongue. He wrinkled his nose at the flavor, which wasn't  _ bad  _ per se, just sort of… leafy. Like the taste equivalent of sniffing flowers and plants in a garden, which was weird as a beverage flavor. Sokka looked down into the cup, swirling it around a few times to watch the pale liquid swish, trying not to notice the reprise of that angry-frustrated-disappointed feeling clawing into him again. He looked up again when he heard Iroh's next question, which pulled him from his thoughts.

"--still no nice young ladies catching my dear nephew's eye?" he asked, grinning. "Because I know you’re busy, but I'd still be happy to set you up with the lovely girl who works here on--"

"Uh, no, no, that's fine," Zuko said quickly, coloring. "I'm--I'm good, Uncle. Just too busy for a relationship. Like you said. But thanks."

Iroh continued to smile, leaning back in his chair, and Sokka felt distinctly shitty about hearing that particular response. Just another added hurt for the tally that Sokka now felt he was carrying around, which really wasn't what he'd been hoping for today. It was one thing to just not mention it, but to blatantly  _ deny  _ it? Yeah, that stung. He knew Zuko was just pretending (was pretty sure he was just pretending), but this was so far from what Sokka had agreed to. What was the motivation there? Why hide it unless it was something about Sokka he was embarrassed of?

Sokka dealt with the discomfort by taking far too large a swallow of the weird leaf juice, which led to him choking and coughing in a deeply undignified way. Zuko immediately thumped him on the back a few times, making him cough harder, and Iroh asked how he could help while Sokka waved him away and tried not to sniffle and spit everywhere. Iroh then got up, saying something about grabbing some water for the table.

Once he was gone and Sokka could breathe again, he turned slowly toward Zuko. For his part, Zuko looked pale and uncomfortable and guilty again, and Sokka felt the pieces finally click together in his mind.

"So Zuko," he began slowly to the man who was not-quite looking at him, "my dear, very platonic friend who I have never showered with and whose dick has definitely never been in my mouth--"

Zuko responded by glaring and changing colors, but Sokka remained undeterred. 

"Does your uncle not know you play for Team Purple?" he asked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here begins the real family interactions. Hopefully you're enjoying it!
> 
> Thanks again for reading, kudos-ing, and commenting. Feel free to come talk to me more on tumblr if you want: onmyliteraturebullshitagain


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More information is shared, and the boys continue muddling their way through this family interaction.
> 
> TW: vague reference to homophobia and child abuse

Zuko continued to glower, although he was also flushing a bit darker.

"Does he not know that you swing both ways?" Sokka supplied for clarification. "That you're a switch hitter? That you’re ambi-sexu-ous? That you're running with the unicorns and pitching with either hand? That--"

"Oh my god,  _ stop _ ," Zuko grunted, taking a drink of his own tea. "I don't even know what half of those mean."

"Well, context clues, so--"

"No," Zuko muttered back, leaning closer, "no, ok? I've never officially come out to my uncle as bisexual."

"Even though you're out to, like, literally everyone else?" Sokka asked.

"Yes, yeah, I know it's stupid," Zuko replied tartly. "I'm out and proud and whatever the fuck--except with my family." He rubbed his forehead. "I've never intentionally  _ hid _ it from them, but I just don't talk about my relationships or bring anyone around so it hasn't come up…"

"Seems like it sorta just did," Sokka said, nodding toward Iroh's still empty chair. “And you just sort of… lied about it, which again, doesn't feel great when I’m--” he gestured around to himself, “you know, right here.”

Zuko groaned.

“God, I’m fucking everything up,” he muttered, maybe mostly to himself, and Sokka wasn’t sure how to respond.

Zuko scraped his nails through his hair, and then folded his hands very tightly in front of him. He stared down at his folded hands, not speaking and lips in a thin line, and Sokka was about to make another flippant douchebag comment before he really looked at him closely.

Zuko, his tough, grumpy, funny, sweet, sometimes inconsiderate asshole Zuko, looked  _ scared _ . Genuinely scared.

"Oh shit, oh god, I’m so sorry," Sokka muttered, leaning closer, any hint of teasing forgotten, "you're actually--"

"It's fine," Zuko said in a small, sharp voice.

"I thought," Sokka said, glancing out at the rest of the restaurant, "your uncle was nice and supported you? I didn’t realize you--would he actually judge you or hurt you if he knew? Because Zuko, I didn't mean to--"

"No," Zuko said flatly, rubbing his face. "No, he's accepting and... chill about all of that as far as I know."

"Ok, so…" Sokka said, unable to resist leaning forward and laying a reassuring hand on Zuko's leg, "what's… what’s the problem then? Why do you… look like this?" He swallowed and pushed on. "Why were you really so afraid to bring me with today? Is it… me?"

Zuko looked at his own hands, squeezed tight enough that the very tops of the knuckles had gone thin and pale. Then he finally met Sokka's eyes, although only for a moment before looking away again.

"It's not you," he said slowly. "It's not you at all, I swear. You're… god, you're the best thing in my life, and I'm fucking it up." 

He swallowed roughly and glared down at his hands again. Sokka wasn't sure how to feel about a declaration like  _ that _ all mixed in with weird trauma, but he rubbed his fingertips against Zuko's leg through his jeans, hoping it conveyed something.

"I know--I know,  _ logically _ , it would be fine if I told him," Zuko continued, barely above a whisper, "because it's Uncle and he most likely wouldn't care and would still be ok with me as a person. I  _ know  _ that." He gritted his teeth. "I know it's not like with--that he’s not my--" His face closed off, and it looked like he was probably hurting himself with how hard he was clenching his jaw.

"That he’s not your dad?" Sokka murmured, leaning so his arm pressed against Zuko's, his stomach clenching. "Because your dad… actually would have hurt you for being who you are?"

Zuko didn't seem to be breathing, but he did finally manage a very tense nod, something strange in his face.

"Did he..." Sokka began, every breath a little too tight and then reworked what he was trying to say. "He… did hurt you. For being bi--or liking boys, or whatever." He was pretty sure he could taste blood and wasn't sure where it had come from. "Didn't he?"

Zuko's blink was slow, but then he nodded very slowly again, just once.

The understanding was like a stab in the gut, and now everything  _ ached _ .

Sokka didn't know what to say, his heart squeezing in his chest, because fuck all of this. Poor fear-closeted Zuko and his shitty abusive dad and nobody ever learning to communicate and Sokka being thrown into the middle of it with no explanation. He wanted desperately to do something, form some sort of action plan he could create to fix this.

First, he would figure out where Ozai was imprisoned and then  _ beat the ever-loving shit out of him _ , the desire for which was becoming an increasingly familiar emotion for him. He’d pictured it in technicolor multiple times and was pretty sure he still had a baseball bat somewhere in the backseat of his car, so there you go.

Second, he’d smuggle Zuko away from this whole situation and wrap him in bubble wrap and keep anyone from ever daring to even look at him wrong again.

Third, he’d hug him or gather him up in his lap or kiss him or do any of the things he'd normally do when Zuko got haunted by his dad, and he’d do it until  _ his _ Zuko came back into the light again. Until all the angry, scared, painful parts could be safely put away and Zuko could live in his present life, rather than the past. Until they were both just themselves, normal and together where they could actually be honest with each other again.

Fourth, they'd talk, actually talk. Sokka would make himself say words and he'd make Zuko say words back and then they'd just curl up around each other and say "fuck it" to the rest of the world for like a week and a half.

It was a solid plan. Except that Sokka couldn’t do a single one of those things right now, not really, and it broke his damn heart.

“What… what can I do?” he asked finally, voice very low.

Zuko just shook his head.

Sokka moved his hand and ran it along Zuko’s lower back, mostly hidden by the chair, but hopefully still reassuring, supportive,  _ something _ .

“Should we leave? Or should I leave?” Sokka asked, and Zuko shook his head again.

"Don't go unless you want to, which would," he said a sort of grunt, "be totally valid."

Sokka rubbed his back again, chewing on the inside of his cheek. 

“We can fake an emergency or something," he continued, brain scrambling. "Maybe our apartments are flooding. Maybe some guy’s having a heart attack and only EMT Zuko can fix it.”

Zuko managed a thin smile at that but shook his head again, taking a slow, deep inhale and rubbing the hair away from his forehead.

“It’ll be fine,” he said, not convincing at all. "It's gonna be fine. I'm just sorry I subjected you to all this. I’m, god, I fucking--"

“Don’t say you suck again,” Sokka cut him off. “I can’t handle hearing you say it again. We’re gonna get you through this, you giant beautiful dumbass.”

Zuko gave a small smile, and Sokka just rubbed along his back again, brain still looking for a new plan.

"Or, um, want me to come out to your uncle?" Sokka asked softly, and Zuko turned to look at him. "Just… test the waters and see how he reacts to me before you have to do anything? And if it’s bad, well, he doesn’t know me anyway so it doesn't matter, and you know you don’t ever have to say anything to him. Yeah?”

"That's ridiculous," Zuko muttered, but there was something oddly hopeful in his expression.

"Why? What's the harm?"

Zuko swallowed. "How would you even do that?" he whispered.

Sokka tried for a smile, grasping at that humor again. "I was thinking something like 'wow, this weird leaf juice is  _ delicious  _ and also I am a big ol' bisexual.' Something like that," Sokka said. "Sound good?"

Zuko actually gave a more natural smile, and he leaned forward just a moment to drop their foreheads together.

"God damn it I'm lucky to have you," he whispered, drawing back. 

"Yes you are," Sokka agreed immediately, and Zuko smiled a little again.

"Thank you," he muttered. "For everything. Truly, Sokka, I… I can't ever make it up to you." He found and squeezed his hand. "I knew there was a reason you were the first person I'd ever actually brought home."

Sokka smiled back, warmed internally and then quickly drew back as Iroh sat back in his chair again, adding a plate of scones and a small pitcher of water to the table.

"Everything alright here?" he asked, taking his seat again and looking between the two of them, who luckily had their hands to themselves again.

“Of course,” Zuko said immediately, perfectly controlled once more, even if he still looked a little pale.

“Good,” Iroh replied, still glancing between them before settling on Zuko. "Nephew, did I tell you about the new tea blend we got in last week?"

Zuko smiled weakly. "You didn't, but I’m sure you can tell me about it now."

Iroh settled back again, his hands folded on his belly, and talked for a while in his soothing-yet-enthusiastic voice about leaves and percentages and water ratios and things that meant absolutely nothing to Sokka's brain. But when he looked aside at Zuko, he was nodding indulgently to his uncle and acting more like himself again, some sort of tension draining from across his shoulders.

After a few minutes, Iroh turned his smile on Sokka instead. 

“So Sokka," he said, "I’ve heard a little about you, I believe, being Zuko’s neighbor, but I’d love to know more about any friend of Zuko’s who actually appreciates good tea.”

Sokka managed a kind of smile, although it might have been skirting the line with a grimace. 

“Um, yep, so I love some good tea. And, uh,” he gave a slightly more convincing smile at the very interested and kindly expression on Iroh’s face. “I’m a graphic designer, and I’m originally from a small town called Pirta that’s, like, 2400 people max.” He rubbed his chin. “I’ve got one younger sister who just got married a couple months ago, and, uh, I’ve got a rescue dog named Boomerang who controls my life.” 

Iroh smiled, nodding along, and Sokka glanced once at Zuko, who was watching him and maybe also thinking of their previous conversation.

So Sokka added before he could doubt himself, “And also I’m a bisexual. So that’s… fun.”

Zuko twitched beside him, and Iroh’s eyebrows rose a little in surprise, because admittedly, that wasn’t typically something Sokka just threw into the beginnings of meeting new people unless he was planning on sleeping with them (which he was very much not at the moment) but still. It was out there and Sokka didn’t regret it.

He’d come tumbling out of the closet long enough ago that, unless he was back in Pirta, he really didn’t care who knew.

“Well, that’s all very interesting information,” Iroh said, smiling gently. “It’s always good to meet someone so comfortable with who they are as a person and--” He suddenly looked up, raising a hand. “Ah, and here comes my lovely niece!” 

Sokka looked up in surprise, and Zuko sat up a little straighter beside him as a woman approached the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been FASCINATING seeing how all of you have responded to this relationship drama, and I do hope I'm doing justice to the characters and presenting their issues in a way that makes sense but where you're also still rooting for them to stay together. But also I don't like them having issues and wanna get to the fluff again, so here's another quick update. :)
> 
> Thanks again for your kudos and comments! You're the best readers ever.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azula is introduced and things get tense within the family (and for an out-of-his-depth Sokka).

Azula was like someone had taken Zuko and sharpened everything about him to an incredibly precise and deadly point. The pair shared many of the same features--slender bodies, dark hair, an angle to their jawlines--but Azula made even a nicely dressed Zuko look overwhelmingly relaxed, everything about her giving off an aura of absolute control: perfectly smoothed hair with exact strands framing her face, impeccable makeup, a crisp blazer and glossy, black nails filed to sharp tips. If Zuko’s eyes tended toward a kind of molten gold in the brown, hers were as pure and flat as bronze shields, and there was something frighteningly unreadable about those eyes and the face around them.

Sokka was suddenly grateful Zuko tended toward being melodramatic in his emotions, because he wasn’t sure how to function with someone he didn’t know how to read.

“Uncle Iroh,” the woman said in a crisp, professional voice, nodding to each member of the table. “Zuko.” Her eyes landed on Sokka. “Stranger.”

Sokka was suddenly very aware that he was just wearing a t-shirt under his denim jacket with fur around the collar, and that his hair was probably getting sort of scruffy, and also that he was apparently in the ranks of vaguely scary but beautiful Asian people and he was very much not that.

“Sokka,” he said, extending a hand across the table. “You must be Azula.”

“I must be,” she replied, ignoring his hand and sitting down across from him. Her eyes slid to Zuko. “And how are you today, Zuzu?”

Zuko huffed. “Can you not call me that?”

“But why not?” she asked, lips lifting in a sharp sort of smile. 

Zuko glared at her a moment longer and then sat back, crossing his arms. “I’m doing fine, ‘Zuli. How are you?” he asked with his own barbed smile.

What the fuck was happening? Sokka looked between them with concern. Was this… normal for them? Was this their version of the hugging and spinning he and Katara did? Or was this two people gearing up to rip each other to shreds? 

Sokka genuinely couldn’t tell, and if  _ that _ wasn’t a terrifying realization, he wasn't sure what was.

Iroh was watching the two impassively, though, so maybe this was normal? Sokka sat very still regardless.

"Oh I'm perfectly fine," Azula said, smile pointed. "Dad says 'hello' by the way."

Zuko flinched just barely, but it was enough that Sokka felt it too. He almost reached out to touch him again, just a reassurance of his presence, but curled his hand into a fist in his lap instead.

"I'm sure he does," Zuko said through his teeth.

"He's doing well, just so you know, even with all he's dealt with," Azula said casually.

"Well he's among his own kind finally," Zuko replied. "I'm sure he feels right at home with all the other criminals and assholes."

Azula's expression went dark. "That's  _ very  _ disrespectful," she growled, and it was different from Zuko's anger somehow. Sharper and meaner, Sokka realized. Just like Zuko had said. 

"He'd be disappointed in you if he knew you were still acting like this," Azula added, running a finger around the edge of her teacup.

"I don't care what he'd think of me," Zuko said back, leaning forward.

Azula's eyes darted between Sokka and Zuko just a moment, and she smiled.

“Oh Zuzu,” she said, “it's always good to see you again. It’s been too long."

"It  _ has _ been too long," Iroh said, finally interjecting. "It's always lovely to get our little family together again, isn't it? I know we've certainly had our struggles, but I'm grateful we're still together." 

He filled Azula's tea cup, and she made a point of looking at him as she took it and said, very formally, “Thank you, Uncle.”

“Of course, my dear,” Iroh said, giving her a careful smile. "You know I'm always happy to see you doing well and taking care of yourself."

"Of course," Azula said and turned her eyes back to Zuko. "So how’s resuscitating old people, Zuzu?”

“Not so bad,” Zuko replied mildly. “How’s serving at the soup kitchen?”

“I actually finished my stint at the soup kitchen,” Azula replied, inspecting her nails for a moment before looking up and adding with an odd level of seriousness, “They said I was the most efficient volunteer they’d ever had.”

Zuko chuckled. “I’d expect nothing less. So what now?”

Azula shrugged. “Dr. Ling will find me something suited to my abilities, I’m sure,” she said.

“So Dr. Ling is still being good to you?” Iroh asked. "I actually spoke to her a bit earlier this week, and she was very proud of the progress you've made on your own recently."

Azula eyed him with something like suspicion. “Dr. Ling is very professional and knowledgeable, and I’m grateful for her continued assistance with getting my life back in order,” she said, which sounded truthful even if it was said stiffly. 

Iroh nodded at that, and Zuko uncoiled, just a little bit, from beside Sokka.

Azula then turned her powerful gaze back to Sokka. “So who are you, Sokka?”

“Oh,” he said, startled by the intensity, “um, I’m Zuko’s friend.”

Azula smiled a little again, just a precise lift of one side of her mouth. “Are you now? Well, isn’t that nice for Zuko? I didn’t realize we were bringing friends to these little meetings.”

“Why not?” Zuko said, coming off considerably more aggressive than necessary, and Sokka wanted to touch him again but held himself back.

"Goodness, Zuzu," Azula said with a strange sort of grin. "Always so defensive. I was simply making an observation. I just so  _ rarely  _ hear about your friends anymore." She took a small sip of her tea. "I was starting to wonder if you had any at all."

Zuko narrowed his eyes at her. "I have  _ friends _ ," he grunted back. "You just--it's not like I see you often enough that you'd meet any of them."

"Of course not," Azula replied, smiling again. "Why make time for your dear little sister?"

Zuko's lips thinned, but luckily Iroh interjected.

"Well, we're all together now, aren't we?" he said pleasantly. "Let's appreciate the blessings that we have."

At that, everyone nodded and lapsed into silence as they focused on their tea. Sokka followed suit, even though tepid leaf water wasn’t any better from hot leaf water. He kept his expression controlled, though, and felt Azula’s eyes on him.

“So Sokka,” Iroh said, “I apologize. You were telling me more about yourself.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Sokka said immediately, setting his cup down again. “I don’t wanna get in the way of any, uh, family stuff.”

Azula gave a light sort of laugh. “Now what on earth could he mean by ‘family stuff’ do you think?” she asked, shooting her brother another look. “Doesn’t every family consist of a surrogate father figure, an imprisoned  _ actual _ father, an angry older brother, and a perfect younger sister?”

Sokka actually laughed at that, and her gaze snapped to him in surprise. 

“That’s actually pretty close to my family dynamic too,” he explained and sobered quickly as he realized how that sounded. "I mean, not the imprisoned dad bit, but the rest. Dad, angry big brother, perfect little sister."

He glanced aside with a smile at Zuko, hoping he was giving off something reassuring by being, you know, a marginally normal human being unlike the rest of them.

“You’re not that angry,” Zuko replied, grinning back, and that made him feel like he’d played this bit the right way.

“You  _ just  _ played Mario Kart with me two days ago,” Sokka argued, and Zuko laughed in a way that was almost relaxed again.

“Uh huh,” Azula said, looking between them, and Sokka suddenly felt weirdly self conscious, like she could see through him.

“But I do have just a dad and sister,” Sokka explained, tone more neutral this time.

“And about a hundred random extended family members,” Zuko added, looking his way too. “You turn around and there’s just more of Sokka’s family.”

Sokka snorted, unable to argue that point, when Azula’s voice cut in.

“You sound like you’re speaking from first hand knowledge,” she said, looking between them again. "So how long have you two known each other exactly? You seem  _ awfully _ close."

"Oh, well--" Zuko said, while at the same time Sokka said, "Right, that's because--"

Azula smiled like she’d just gained some sort of point in a game only she knew the rules to, which made Sokka nervous again, and Iroh simply nodded and sipped his tea. 

"I mean, we became friends because we're neighbors," Sokka offered, "and we, uh, hang out sometimes--"

"Exactly," Zuko said.

"Of course," Azula said smoothly, although her eyes had gone a bit narrow. "I've always found it so interesting to see who Zuzu chooses to spend his limited time with, ever since we were kids."

Zuko stiffened, and he set his cup back down on the table.

"Azula, would you like some more tea?" Iroh said calmly, although there was a sort of authority undercutting his placid demeanor. 

"Of course, Uncle." Azula offered her cup to Iroh, giving him a polite smile.

"Have you been able to contact old friends much recently?" Iroh asked as he poured, tone just as kindly and relaxed as always.

"No," Azula answered shortly, eyes still on Zuko, "only my father."

Sokka found himself once again on uneven footing with this trio of confusing individuals, looking between them as he tried to follow.

"But maybe I can soon," Azula said, tapping her nails into the cup again as she took it back. "Because I do miss those good old days sometimes. Don't you, Zuzu?"

Zuko scowled at her. "No. I don't."

"Well  _ something _ in you must," Azula noted, sipping her tea, "because Sokka reminds me of some of those other boys you used to bring around when we were younger. You know, the ones Dad didn't like?"

Zuko’s expression had gone a bit dangerous, fire in his eyes and his jawline a hard slash, and the hand around his tea cup had gone very tight, the knuckles sharp.

"Maybe we should--" Sokka began, because this all seemed to be careening terribly close to the edge of something very bad that he definitely didn't understand. But he’d grown up on the plains, and he knew how to sense a storm when it was coming even if he couldn't see it yet.

“Oh Zuzu,” Azula said, watching her brother with a kind of unblinking intensity. “Are you still having those anger issues? Poor thing.”

“Oh Zuli,” Zuko replied, baring his teeth in something that could barely be called a smile, “I really don't think you wanna find out.”

Azula was still staring at him with a needling smile of her own, gaze unflinching. 

What the fuck was happening?

Sokka looked aside at Zuko, the sharp cut of his face, and then glanced at Iroh where he still sat placidly watching the pair of siblings locked in some very strange death glare.

To Sokka’s surprise, Iroh stood up and gave them all a fond smile. "I'm afraid my employee is waving me over with a question," he said. "I believe I'll let you chat a moment while I talk to her and then I'll be back with some more tea. How does that sound?"

"Lovely," Azula lilted, still smiling.

"Great," Zuko grunted back.

Iroh smiled like somehow he magically couldn't feel the lightning crackle of tension around the table (or he knew better than Sokka what the hell was going on, which hopefully he did), and then picked up the tea pot and headed away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you don't recall (or didn't read it), Zuko did make brief reference to these childhood and teenage friends/"boyfriends" in "The Sleepover," although it's fully up to your interpretation what exactly these interactions were and what happened with them. I'm also operating under the assumption that Zuko still had some contact with Azula and his dad even after he lived with Iroh, just so that future interactions between the siblings make sense. As always, if my revised timeline doesn't make sense, feel free to tell me to clarify and I'll do what I can!
> 
> Again, thank you all so much for reading, kudos-ing, and commenting!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka gets protective, and Zuko and Azula work out some old family issues with a decent amount of success.

"Azula, if you--" Zuko growled as soon as Iroh was gone, and his sister just giggled in a barbed, high-pitched sort of way.

"I don't know what you're getting so worked up about, Zuzu," she said. "I'm just having a friendly little chit-chat about our childhood. I never understood why you were so _sensitive_ . And the _anger._ ” She clucked her tongue. “Does your new friend know about that? What you’ve done?”

There was a tense moment where Zuko seemed to be processing, and Sokka watched his profile and the twitch of tension in his jaw, unsure which way this was going to go. 

If Zuko straight up tackled and started fist-fighting his sister in a public restaurant, did he intervene? If Azula went for an electrical cord or a knife or something (all of which seemed horrifyingly possible based on what he'd seen so far), did Sokka try to stop _her_? Did he call the police? Did he just try to get everyone else out of the restaurant and let it happen?

These were insane scenarios that Sokka definitely never thought he’d have to consider, so yeah, maybe he hadn’t _quite_ been prepared to handle whatever Zuko’s family could throw at him.

But then Zuko took a deep breath through his nose and seemed to consciously unclench his jaw as he let the air slowly out through his mouth. His eyes shut for just a moment as he exhaled, and when they opened again, some of the fire there had receded. 

"I'm not doing this," he said quietly, maybe to himself, and sat back a little, although his hand was still in a tense fist around his cup.

Azula's lip curled a little, and even Sokka could read the twinge of irritation she felt at the changing situation. 

“I can't believe you're still doing this kind of shit," Zuko added, and his voice was considerably more calm and reasonable now.

One of Azula's eyebrows ticked up but nothing else on her face moved.

"I’m not your competition anymore,” Zuko said like it was something he’d recited before, his own irritation bleeding through, “and I never should have been your competition to begin with--fucking come on. Why can’t you get past this? I always think you're getting better and then--"

"Past _what_ , big brother?" Azula said, voice silky and face controlled again as she brushed past his other statements. “What are you so afraid of?”

Zuko leveled Azula with a long look.

"Even if he talked to you recently," Zuko said, tone low, "our dad's _gone_ . That dynamic, that weird reward system he had for you? Whatever you 'earned' from treating me like shit? It's _done_. Forever."

Azula's face twitched.

"You can't 'beat' me at anything anymore, ok?" Zuko finished, almost coldly. "There's nothing for you to 'win’ now, so just give it up."

Azula's expression had briefly faltered, but it didn't last long.

“I was just trying to have a nice conversation about some old friends,” she said with false sweetness. "Just share a little of our fascinating childhood with your new friend."

Zuko sat still for a moment and then sighed and gestured with a quick flick of his hands, something that motioned for her to get it over with. Sokka felt that resignation with a nervous twist in his gut.

Azula shot Sokka a look and a knowing sort of smile. "I'm sorry you're having to see this side of my brother. He probably hasn't shown you it yet, has he? Just how angry and unhappy he is." She shook her head, faux sympathetic while Zuko glared at her again. "Not a pretty picture, is it?"

Sokka stared at her. "What? What are you talking about?" 

Azula rolled her eyes. "I should have known. Zuzu’s always had a type with his friends: pretty, trusting, sort of _simple_. It’s no surprise he’s moved on to you now."

“Excuse me--” Sokka began, but Zuko cut him off.

"Oh Zuli," he said, smile icy this time, "I’m working really hard to try to talk to you nicely, but Sokka's definitely not a subject I'm gonna let you near."

"Why's that?" Azula said, grinning to herself. "Are you scared of what I might know? Or… is it Uncle?”

Zuko twitched, just a little, but Azula clearly saw it. 

“Oh no, poor Zuzu,” her eyelids lowered along with her cooing voice, “does Uncle not _know_? Scared of what he might think about you--what he might _do_ \--if he knew about your… _varied_ affections?

Zuko had gone very still and pale, and Sokka finally reached out and lay his hand on top of Zuko's wrist and turned his suddenly burst of fury on Azula.

"You got a problem with _varied affections_ , sis? Because you're looking _right_ at it," he asked, and he was surprised at the way the words cut out of him even with his voice kept low. "So do we need to have our own conversation or are you gonna leave him alone? Because I swear to god I'll--"

Zuko reached over and touched his forearm just a moment, stopping him mid-ranting threat, and Azula raised her eyebrows, actually looking surprised.

“Sokka, it’s fine,” Zuko said, sounding calmer and more resigned again as he took his hand back (although he hadn't moved his other hand from under Sokka's). “She just likes rattling me and knows how to do it a little too well. It’s an old instinct,” he shot Azula a look, “that our dad brings out in her because she just hasn’t quite unlearned it. Isn’t that right, Zuli?”

Azula frowned at him but didn’t respond.

“Yeah, that’s not fine,” Sokka grunted back, glaring at Azula, who still watched their interaction with odd interest, “so how about you drop it, huh?”

"Well, look who you've found for yourself," Azula purred, eyes moving to Zuko. "Handsome, sweet, _and_ protective of his lover. Lucky you."

Sokka hadn’t quite been expecting _that_ but he wasn’t about to back down now, and he certainly wasn’t gonna say she was wrong. She wasn’t, after all. And Zuko hadn’t shaken off his hand, even if he’d gone a bit more stiff again.

"So you know," Zuko said, and his voice was flat. "You've just always known I was queer and toyed with me for fun. Because you could? Because you realized I didn't know for sure _what_ you knew?" His jaw tightened again. "Always Azula with the lies and the games."

"Not _always_ ," Azula replied, looking unsurprised (although Sokka was, a little bit, by Zuko’s blunt admission). "I didn't _always_ know, but I certainly _guessed_ just like Dad did. More than Dad did, honestly, although of course he was more… direct about it."

Zuko eyed her, going pale again. "Perfect Ozai can't have a gay fucking son," he murmured like the words burned in his mouth.

Sokka wasn't sure whose words these were, how long they'd been lodged in Zuko's chest, but he tightened his hand on Zuko's wrist, sick to his stomach. Zuko shot him just the smallest glance.

"But I didn't _know_ ," Azula continued, still unsettlingly unconcerned, "just like he didn't. Not _entirely_. But, come on, Zuzu, you were never terribly subtle, especially not as a teen."

Zuko was very still beside him, and Sokka let his thumb rub against Zuko's wrist where their hands were still piled together.

Azula looked at those hands and then over at Sokka, who was still watching her closely, unsure if he was prepared to leap across the table and tackle her himself this time, or if he wanted to just get up and drag Zuko out of the teashop. Maybe both. He focused for the moment on Zuko’s hand and the hard glint of Azula’s eyes.

"I don’t get this whole dynamic at all, whatever weird crap you guys need to unpack, or what happened in the past," Sokka said finally, keeping his eyes on her face, “but you’re gonna leave him alone while I’m around. I won't just sit here and watch you treat him like this."

Azula looked over at Zuko. "He's very intense, isn't he?"

Zuko frowned back at her, but Sokka cut in before he could answer.

"I'm not fucking around, Azula," he said in a low, pointed growl. " _Stop it_."

Azula put up a hand in surrender. "God, alright. Why would I care who Zuzu runs around with? I've never cared about the _gender_ of the person stupid enough to date him," she said. " _He's_ the one who's always been secretive and ashamed of himself."

"Yeah I wonder why that might be," Zuko said dryly. "More than a decade since we lived together and _five years_ , Azula, since Dad went away, and you still have to cut down the people around you, huh?” 

Azula's mouth snapped shut and turned to a thin line. 

Zuko's voice was firm, maybe a little tired, as he continued. “Does it really make you feel better about yourself? Are you _that_ convinced that you can’t be happy unless everyone else is miserable? Because clearly," he finished, "that's worked out _so_ well for you before."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Azula snapped, nostrils flaring.

"Oh of course not," Zuko replied, watching her almost placidly. "So how _are_ Mai and Ty Lee? Being cruel enough that they were afraid of you lead to a happy lasting friendship like Dad said it would? Fear's the only real power, right?" 

Something ticked in his jaw, and he rubbed, without seemingly to realize it, at the edge of his scar. Azula, for her part, had gone motionless, eyes a bit wide. 

"So you kick me around enough today that you're happy now?” Zuko asked. “Or do you wanna try _actually_ being siblings and see how that works instead?"

Azula's expression changed a little again, some of the control and steel in her features softening with an emotion that might have been guilt, maybe a bit of sadness. Sokka still couldn't read her entirely, but there was more and more vulnerable finally starting to bleed through her carefully constructed mask.

Zuko was still staring at her, tense but composed, and Azula sat back, looking angry for a moment, like she might speak, argue, fight more. But Zuko didn't drop his gaze, and Azula's expression shifted again, softened further. She took a sip of the tea and more of the aggression and precision suddenly went out of her posture. 

"You think you know everything…" she muttered. "You know me _so_ well."

"I mean," Zuko said, leaning on an elbow. "I kinda _do_ , Azula."

Azula watched him a moment, and some odd, nonverbal communication seemed to be happening between them. It passed quickly, tiny similar ticks in their expressions that Sokka couldn't quite follow.

"Well, I know _you_ too," Azula said finally, "and I was always a little hurt when we were younger that you didn't feel like you could tell me the truth." Her voice was softer than it had been. “We were just kids. We could have talked." 

Zuko's eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing. "You just proved why I couldn't tell you anything," he stated. "Because you do shit like _this_."

Azula adjusted the teacup nestled in her palms. "You could have," she said simply, with a not quite convincingly nonchalant shrug. "I never told him about them, or about you, just so you know."

Zuko's expression flickered.

"However he found out, whatever gave you away," Azula continued, more of that syrupy veneer fading as she looked up, "it wasn't me."

Zuko stared at her a moment. "You…"

"No," she said, looking down at her nails, resuming her sort of indifferent expression, guards back in place although not as firmly as before, "even then, I never said anything. It wouldn't have been fighting fair, and even _I_ had standards. I won because I was _better_ than you, not because of some stupid prejudice Dad had.” Her eyes were sharp. “I took pride in that."

Sokka had no idea what the hell that meant, but it clearly meant something to Zuko, who was watching her in surprise. Sokka adjusted Zuko's hand so he could actually hold it, their fingers knitted together, and Zuko let him.

Azula met Zuko's eyes again, although her gaze did drop once to their joined hands. 

"I kept your secrets about the things that mattered," she said simply. "And I might get to you because I _can_ , because I don’t…" She looked a bit like saying the words pained her. "I’m still learning how _not_ to," she finished, but then she brushed it away, that placid appearance returning. "But I kept your stupid secrets."

Zuko's expression was hard to interpret. "I always assumed…"

"I know you did," Azula said, stroking a strand of her dark hair, "and I suppose, looking back, it was justified, your distrust of me." 

Zuko watched her for a long moment only broken by the background noise of the tea shop.

"Thank you," he said quietly, "for acknowledging that."

Azula's eyebrows rose, and she took a drink of the tea, looking away. When she looked back up, her lips were thinned. 

"I did do some terrible things to you. I know that now," she stated, voice hushed, "so I can't... blame you for thinking the worst of me."

" _Dad_ did terrible things to me," Zuko replied immediately, like it was something he'd worked hard to be able to state so directly. "He just used you to do them because he could. We _both_ know that now."

Azula looked at him in surprise. "Dr. Ling?"

"Nah, my own version of Dr. Ling, although the two probably have their own weekly meetups just to get drunk and compare notes on their shared messed-up siblings," Zuko said, scratching the back of his head.

Then he sat back, and some sense of normalcy had occurred between them again, or at least something more normal than the previous murder-y vibe. So Sokka at least was grateful for that.

"God, you do still piss me off, Zuli, and you do it on purpose," Zuko finished with a familiar sort of irritable huff, which sounded much more like the annoyed but affectionate way he talked to Sokka that the previous conversation laced all through with pain and anger.

Azula actually chuckled at that, for a moment sounding very similar to Zuko, and _that_ was jarring. 

"It's only sometimes on purpose, and I really am _trying_ …" Her lips pursed. "It doesn't matter. You piss me off too," she replied simply, "but I won't say anything around Uncle if it means that much to you, keeping this one a secret." She flicked her finger's in Sokka's direction.

"Don't call him 'this one.' Fuck's sake, Azula."

"Fine," Azula said with an eye roll, "I won't say anything about _Sokka_ , alright?"

Zuko sat back, taking his hands back into his lap and bringing Sokka's with them. "Thank you," he said.

"Well, you get so weird and barky about everything," Azula said, stroking a strand of hair near her face again.

"I don't get _barky,_ " Zuko protested.

Normally Sokka would argue that yes, he definitely did, but Sokka wasn't about to side with Azula. So he simply kept his mouth shut and squeezed Zuko's hand, and for a few minutes, they simply sat in silence, maybe each navigating in their own thoughts.

"How does everyone feel about some Jasmine tea?" Iroh said, approaching to refill empty teacups around the table, and Sokka quickly let go of Zuko's hand. "Are we all doing quite alright after a bit of time to talk?"

"Yeah," Zuko said, looking over at Azula, "we're fine, Uncle." 

“Good, good,” Iroh said, sitting down again. “I know you two still have quite a lot to work through to move back toward harmony.”

“You say that like there was ever harmony,” Zuko grunted with a humorless smile.

But Iroh returned his look with something a bit sad. “I remember you both when you were very small, when the world was a very different place,” he said, looking between the siblings. "But I believe you can find some peace like that again with time and effort, although the choice must be up to the pair of you."

Zuko looked about to reply when his phone went off. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked down, frowning. 

"Nick, seriously?" He muttered and then looked back up. "I'm sorry. It’s work--excuse me for just a second."

He stood up, gave Sokka one quick, apologetic look, and then was heading toward the door. Sokka stared after him, briefly panicked, because oh god no, don't leave him with just the family while he had next to no idea what was going on and everyone talked in weird riddles Sokka did _not_ have the training to understand.

Thankfully, Azula took that moment to pat her lips with a napkin and excuse herself to the lady's room, which just left Iroh. Which was nerve wracking, but less so at least than the unreadable, maybe-trying-to-be-better but maybe-still-sadistic sister. The older man simply sipped his tea, looking contentedly around at the tea shop while Sokka waited, tiredly wondering what new mess of insanity was about to fall in his lap.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last, the truth begins to come out.

"You're kind to put yourself into the middle of such a complex situation for your friend," Iroh said, smiling at Sokka now as they sat across the table from each other in the homey quiet of the tea shop.

"Oh. Right. Of course," Sokka said, taking a drink of the new tea, which was a bit better than the last one. "Friendship. Yep.”

Iroh’s expression was gentle.

"Azula may still be troubled, working to unlearn a lifetime of being used and valued for her cruelty," Iroh said, looking over Sokka's shoulder back toward the main door. "but my nephew is no less complicated in his own way."

Sokka watched him, eyebrows furrowing. "Sure…" he finally said, because Iroh seemed to be waiting for a response, even though Sokka really wasn't sure he knew what they were talking about.

Apparently satisfied with this nothing answer anyway, Iroh nodded to himself, a bit of sadness settling across his face. 

"He's been trained to be constantly alert for threats, expecting them from any corner, any situation, and has learned to react with anger and distance to protect himself from that possible harm, even if it hurts those around him." He shook his head, eyes soft and sad as he continued, "Which is in some ways just as difficult an impulse to unlearn as Azula’s desire to antagonize and defeat others in order to feel in control herself. Together, they haven't had an easy life and have had to find ways to survive the best they can."

Sokka felt his forehead furrow. "Ok?"

Iroh stroked a hand down his beard. "I'm assuming you at least know something of Zuko and Azula's upbringing?"

"Um, yeah. Some," Sokka agreed carefully, fiddling with the cup in his hands and spinning it on the table. "Just whatever Zuko decides to tell me. I don't… I try not to poke at him--well," he backtracked, rubbing the back of his head, "I poke at him a lot about his choice in footwear and that he won't eat frozen burritos, but I try not to about stuff that might actually hurt him to talk about."

Iroh's gaze was steady, a small smile hidden within his beard, so Sokka found himself going on for some reason. 

"It’s… weird between us sometimes, that I don't know how to ask and he doesn't talk and we're both…" Sokka waved a hand, unsure what he was trying to convey. "Sometimes we're  _ too _ similar and other times we're too different and that's hard because I wanna help and I can't, and he can be so damn stupid and inconsiderate without meaning to and--" 

He paused, realizing this wasn't coming out well, but Iroh was still watching him with a calm interest and didn't seem terribly offended by Sokka insulting his nephew.

Sokka sighed. "But I do know how hard he’s worked--how hard he’s trying, so I guess I’m… trying too."

Iroh gave a very warm smile that Sokka hadn’t expected, because he wasn’t entirely sure that what he’d said had made any sense at all except in his own head.

"I'm glad to know he's chosen to share his burdens with someone so understanding," Iroh said securely, which seemed awfully nice in response to Sokka's nonsense. "To have earned the trust of my nephew is quite the accomplishment and says a great deal about a person."

Sokka snorted. "I sort of did it by a lot of yelling and flirting--I mean friendship!" he overcorrected a bit loudly. "Just lots of platonic hangs and guys being guys."

Iroh chuckled. "Of course." He stroked his beard again, his eyes gentle. "I love my nephew very much and know him far better than he sometimes likes to believe," he said, "so there is  _ very little _ he could tell me about himself at this point that would be a surprise." His gaze turned pointed, and maybe just a little bit like Sokka was a dumbass.

Which was… warranted.

"Ah," Sokka said, some worry subsiding even in the face of being non-verbally told he sucked at his one fake job. "So you already know."

Iroh smiled. "Of course. I've known for some time. But I will always leave it up to him to tell me for himself when he feels ready, although I do sometimes try to give him the opportunity to say something should he so choose." He spread his hands a moment. "My primary concern will always be that he feels safe to make up for the safety he didn’t have as a child, and I would gather," he added, eyes kind, "you share my concerns."

"I just…" Sokka said, unsure what he wanted to say, or how to say it, because this whole family talked by not-saying and Sokka very much did  _ not _ do that. "Yeah," he settled on, "I also want that. Because… I really care about him and I want to keep him in my life." He scratched the side of his head. "You know. In a friend way."

"Of course," Iroh said again, chuckling. "Well, I'm very glad he has found a friend like you."

"Thanks," Sokka said, eyebrows pulling together, "although I don't feel like you actually know that much about me."

"Just watching the way my nephew is around you says a great deal, I believe," Iroh said, sipping his tea.

"Really?" Sokka asked. "You can tell that he, uh, appreciates my friendship too?" 

He winced a little at this stupid dancing-around talk, feeling ridiculous. No wonder Zuko couldn't create a clear sentence to save his damn life when he was feeling weird. This family communicated like they were all playing competitive chess, and Sokka was trying to play too with whatever random crap he’d managed to rustle up in his pockets.

"He might not be good at always showing his emotions, and he's made his share of mistakes," Iroh replied carefully, "but I would guess that he feels about you the same way you feel about him." He folded his hands again. "A desire to see you safe and happy and cared for, even if he struggles with what that looks like."

Sokka wet his lips, heart beating a little hard in his chest.

"That's a lot to assume from two guys badly lying to you for a couple hours," Sokka offered, sitting back, and Iroh actually laughed just a little.

Then he smiled over Sokka's shoulder and asked, "Everything alright, Nephew?"

"Coworker," Zuko grumbled as he approached again "Just being an idiot like normal, but no one's dying, so we're good." 

Sokka looked up at him with a smile, and Zuko bent to drop a kiss on the crown of his head, stroking back a loosened strand of Sokka’s hair as he did so. 

"Everything ok here?" he asked, giving a small smile back as he took his seat again.

Sokka sat very still, waiting for Zuko to realize what he'd just done, how naturally he'd just done it. And it was the ease of it, like an unconscious, built-in gesture, that made Sokka smile again.

"We're all good," he said, because Zuko was looking at him with a slightly quizzical expression. "Having a nice talk about you, actually, and how well your uncle knows you."

Sokka wasn't gonna say more than that and certainly wasn't gonna point out Zuko's sweet, off-handed expression of affection. But the realization did finally flicker across Zuko's face. It was like a strange pantomime of emotions: awareness, embarrassment, horror, panic.

"Oh, that's, um--" he sputtered immediately, looking over at his uncle with widened eyes.

Iroh simply took another sip of tea and watched his nephew change colors and make unclear mouth sounds. There was no hurry to it, no pushing, but his expression was open as he waited. 

Zuko could lie again. He could deny it, and Iroh would probably let him. But even with Iroh's reassurance, Sokka wasn't sure he could bear hearing it from him another time. So he rested a hand on Zuko's leg in solidarity, and Zuko twitched and glanced at him. Sokka just sat there and waited, ready to be rebuffed and ready to leave if Zuko pushed him away, but he was willing to wait to see what Zuko would actually do. 

Zuko had snapped his mouth shut finally, into a sharp, thin line, and his spine had gone tense. But then he put his hand overtop of Sokka's and squeezed, surprisingly hard.

"Um…" Zuko began and looked back at his uncle, that fear returning to his face, and the grip didn’t lessen on Sokka's hand, "Sokka and I are together."

It came out in a kind of blurt, too fast, but it was out there and his hand was locked around Sokka's, and Sokka was deeply, painfully proud of him.

Iroh gave one slow nod, but Zuko struggled on anyway, words clipped and sharp.

"Like romantically together," he clarified, looking back at Sokka quickly before turning his eyes to his uncle once more. "Because I'm attracted to him and really like him because I'm--because I'm not just attracted to women. Obviously. Because Sokka is, um, a man, so--" 

He swallowed and kept digging his fingers into Sokka's hand like if he let go he'd be thrown out to sea. 

Sokka didn't mind. He didn't mind in the slightest. 

"I do still like women, sometimes, also, along with men," Zuko hurried on, like he had to fully justify his relationship and sexuality all in this one go, present his case like he was in court, "but um--so there's a thing called the Kinsey scale and I'm like a three, I think, or maybe a four depending on the day. Which…" he waved his free hand, "doesn't mean anything to anyone but me and isn't really useful right now…"

"I've heard of it," Sokka supplied, trying to be helpful. "I'm like a two and a half."

Zuko shot him a smile that was somehow simultaneously terrified and grateful, and then finally looked at his uncle again. 

"So um, that's it," Zuko finished, and the hand on Sokka's went even tighter as Sokka watched him.

As he sat there, facing his uncle's judgement, he looked smaller, somehow. Different from the Zuko that Sokka typically knew who was sarcastic and assertive and opinionated. But he also wasn't quite the exhausted, heart-sick Zuko that had sat up with him all night. This was someone else, typically buried, a version whipped through with visible terror that he couldn’t hide. Something was clenched in Zuko's shoulders, tucking them in around his jaw, like he was already pulling into himself. A kicked dog preparing for another blow, prepared to bite or run. Still shielding its vital organs, preparing for pain. But even through the obvious tension and fear he was feeling, Zuko kept his eyes defiantly forward on his uncle, kept his jaw set, and kept his hand locked around Sokka's.

"Zuko," Iroh said slowly, "Nephew, you know I think of you as my own and have since you were just a child."

Zuko swallowed, still not moving, still clearly waiting for the hammer to fall. Sokka was reminded, sickeningly, of the question, 'do you still want me, Sokka?' and a conversation offered with a similar vulnerability and patience, although a different kind of fear. He rubbed his thumb against the side of Zuko's finger, which is all he could reach with the grip Zuko still had on his hand. But he was glad to be there anyway.

Iroh set his tea cup down completely, very quietly, and Zuko still flinched, just a little.

"There is nothing--especially nothing like this that is so positive for you," Iroh smiled gently and motioned between the pair of them, "that could ever change how much I love you."

Zuko didn't uncoil, not really, but the hand squeezing the life out of Sokka's softened for a second and then squeezed tight again.

"So you're not… mad at me?" he asked softly, sounding younger than he actually was, his body still curled into itself. "You're not disappointed?"

That small voice and those fragile questions about broke Sokka's heart again, but at least he was here, a hand to hold and a presence by his side. He only wished he could squeeze his hand back, remind him he wasn’t alone. He rubbed at his finger again, just the smallest brush of skin against skin.

"Never," Iroh replied, smiling. "Not in any way. I hope you know how much I value you trusting me with this, and I will always be here to support the man you have become. I hope you never find cause to doubt that."

Finally at that, something actually eased in Zuko's body, and he seemed to transform before Sokka's eyes back into the man he knew again. No longer a child, awaiting judgement or preparing to scrape and claw his way out of the situation if he had to. His hand, which he glanced at in surprise like he hadn't even realized he'd been clinging to Sokka for dear life, released too. Sokka rubbed a hand over his leg again, that passed on reassurance. Zuko still looked a little agitated, like he was gearing for a fight that might still come, and Iroh just continued to watch him with an incredibly gentle expression. Sokka felt the ripples of the unsaid lingering between them, those aspects of family that Sokka wasn’t a part of.

"I think I'm gonna grab another drink and let you two talk alone for a little bit," he said, standing up. 

Zuko looked up at him in surprise, but Sokka just bent to press a kiss to his forehead too, cupping the back of his head. The cat was out of the bag now anyway. 

"You've got this," Sokka added to Zuko's sudden nervous expression, "and just wave and I can come right back. But I bet you won't need me." He patted Zuko’s shoulder. "He loves you. You can do this."

Zuko finally nodded and mouthed "thank you" before looking back at Iroh, who was simply sipping his tea again and giving them their moment. Bless the man, who clearly knew everything all the time and just pretended to be some sweet old guy in a tea shop. Sokka gave them one last look and then stepped away to see if this place served  _ anything _ but hot leaf juice. He definitely needed something stronger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/kinsey-scale#updated-scale 
> 
> Here's a link if you're curious at all about the Kinsey Scale, but basically Zuko ends up on this scale with a mostly equal preference for men and women but with a lean toward men sometimes, while Sokka generally has a slight preference for women. Can you tell I'm a nerd connected to academia in that I wanted to include this detail? 
> 
> Anyway, thanks again all! Your interpretations and comments are incredible and I so appreciate hearing your perspectives!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka finds himself in a conversation with Azula that forces him into some serious realizations.

"Can I speak to you for a moment?" Azula asked, catching Sokka by surprise while he browsed the pastry shelf and waited for the nephew and uncle coming-out conversation to conclude. 

Sokka looked up, a little nervous, but Zuko was still talking to his uncle and hadn't burst into flames or fled the room or started kicking over tables or anything so… why not? He looked back at Azula and her inscrutable face. What was the worst thing that could happen?

He briefly pictured a frayed electrical cord but dismissed the thought.

"Sure," he said, straightening.

She immediately turned and headed through a door that led down a back hallway to the bathrooms, and Sokka followed, throwing one glance over his shoulder to check on Zuko again. He was leaning forward, looking equal parts nervous and relieved, and Iroh was reaching across the table to lay a hand on top of Zuko's, his face pulled up in a smile.

Ok good. So maybe as long as Azula didn't murder him, today could have a happy ending after all the bullshit. 

When Sokka approached, Azula was leaning against the wall and examining her nails, looking completely bored and unconcerned, one ankle crossed casually over the other.

"So… you wanted to talk to me?" Sokka asked, leaning back against the opposite wall so there was a decent amount of space between them in the empty hall. Just tile floor and braided non-slip rugs and some paintings of teacups and flowers and Zuko's unreadable, scary sister.

"I feel it's my duty to be honest with you," Azula said, still looking over her nails as if this was all below her, “what with everything today.”

"Ok…" Sokka replied, already worried. "About… what exactly?"

"It's not pleasant to have to say," she said casually, "but if you are truly  _ involved  _ with my brother in some way, you deserve to know what you're getting yourself into. He made a very nice show of himself today, but you should know the truth, and it seems I'll be the one who'll have to tell you."

Sokka crossed his arms, waiting.

Azula finally leveled him with a look. 

"He can't love you the way you want him to," she stated bluntly. "Our father made sure of that. He  _ tries _ but it doesn't change him deep down." For a moment, something changed in her expression and she added softly, flicking a strand of her hair back. "It doesn't change either of us. Not really."

"What are you talking about?" Sokka asked, feeling his fingers digging into his upper arms.

"Zuzu," Azula replied, back to sounding a bit bored, "really, he can't ever trust or love anyone completely. The whole instinct was trained out of him early on, and believe me, he’s learned the lesson well by now." She eyed him. "Stay with him and you'll just get hurt."

"I'm sorry," Sokka said, maybe a little sharply, "where exactly is this coming from?"

"You don't have to believe me," she added with a dismissive flip of her hand, "but I'm  _ trying _ to be kind and warn you because you genuinely seem nice but also like you might be a bit stupid."

"Ok, well, that's... rude," Sokka said, shifting his weight.

"Right, Dr. Ling would probably be upset at me for that," Azula said without the smallest tick of apology, "but sometimes brutal honesty is necessary.” She looked almost pained as she added, “I know my brother better than anyone--better than Uncle, better than Dad--and I know what he's still capable of.”

“Ok…” Sokka said, mind working to process and pull the pieces together. Why was it making him queasy?

Azula finally met his eyes, and they were darker than Zuko’s but a similar shape, a similar cleverness in the depths, a similar shadow behind them. 

Her voice was firm as she explained, eyes locked on his, “Whatever you might think from the outside, whatever side he shows you, under it all Zuko's like broken glass--try to touch him and you'll end up bleeding."

"Poetic," Sokka said dryly, but the description stuck somewhere in his stomach. He hated that it did, but...

He couldn't shake the thought of those ghosted days, of walking on eggshells, of being shut out, of the bombs dropped today, the unintentional hurt.

Because it  _ did _ hurt, and that in itself was frightening. 

"I can see you know what I'm talking about," Azula said, sounding almost smug. "You've been hurt by him already, haven't you?" She ticked up an eyebrow. “Did he hit you?”

“What? God no!” Sokka replied immediately. “Why the fuck would you say that?”

“Well, you never know with him,” Azua said with a completely uncaring shrug. “He’s thrown enough punches in his life.”

“Yeah, maybe when he was an angry kid, but he’s not like that now," Sokka said, trying to convince himself also because he was sick to his stomach with the thought, with her flippancy.

“At least not around you,” Azula corrected, “or not  _ yet _ .” She ran a fingertip along one long nail. “So if not that, then he’s, what? Yelled at you? Pushed you away? Strung you along?” She shot him a look. “All very Zuko approaches to relationships, believe me."

Sokka didn't say anything to that, ignoring the way it made his chest hurt. And he'd been feeling so good in the face of Zuko acknowledging him and coming out, like maybe things were turning around, like maybe that could make up for the rest of it, these last few weeks (and hours, honestly). But it was like Azula was looking into him, prodding at and coaxing out all his buried but persistent concerns.

Azula just nodded to herself, looking infuriating smug again, all knowing and so completely sure of herself, and here was Sokka, lost and stupid and scrambling just to understand these people and this fucked up family dynamic. 

"If you're truly as  _ nice  _ as you seem," Azula continued, "you'll just keep getting cut by him." She gave him a sympathetic, maybe patronizing, sort of smile. "It's who he is. He won't do it on purpose, but he can't help it. He can't change his nature.”

“He’s not…” Sokka began but didn’t know how to finish that sentence.

Azula just nodded, still looking so god damn sorry for him. “Better to get out before you're too invested, before he tears you apart completely."

Sokka didn't know what her motivation was here, if she was genuine, if this was some return to that fucked up game, if it was something else entirely, but he hated that he understood her, that even a part of him was considering what she had to say. Because he couldn't dismiss some of Zuko's choices: not telling Sokka about everything until they were here today, dumping him into this impossible situation with no help, the look in his eye as he'd pulled away and left that morning, that yelled “stop” and the words "I can't do this" followed by radio silence. He pictured the mood swings and haunted looks and quick snaps of anger that happened sometimes, that alluded to the version of Zuko that Azula apparently knew so well, still recognized under it all. He imagined a future of continued not-knowing, of waiting, of being constantly unsure where they stood. That nagging concern about what they meant to each other, if Zuko would keep coming back, keep wanting him too.

Logically, he knew that was just his own insecurity talking, just the stress and weirdness of the past couple weeks and of today. But...

He opened his mouth, not entirely sure what he was about to say. Azula was watching him, knowing and sharp-eyed and too much like Zuko. Too, too much like Zuko.

Maybe she was right. Maybe this was the sign, having his fears confirmed by someone else, hearing them put into words and explained. Maybe the coming out was too little, wasn't enough, was just that outside that seemed so good.

Zuko was broken glass.

It made sense.

Yet when Sokka tried to accept that image, all he could really picture was Zuko out under the stars the night of the wedding. He tried to superimpose the Zuko that Azula described, one at risk of hitting or yelling or shoving away, and just couldn’t see it. It didn’t make sense, not really, not in Sokka's experience. All he pictured was the Zuko who'd come all the way to a tiny town just to help out Sokka, who'd defended him from his old bully, who'd been so upset with himself for being angry even then, when it was justified. Who kept being so sorry for getting angry, who even today had taken that deep breath and let it go and calmed again. That wasn’t the same person Azula described. It just couldn’t be. Not the Zuko who thanked him and held him, the one who told Sokka so gently that he wasn't too much, who hugged him tight and kissed him in passing and kept showing up when it actually mattered, even with all the mess and mistakes and confusion in between.

He tried to picture broken glass and just saw Zuko shutting his eyes as he let Sokka kiss his scar, Zuko smirking down at him as they lay on his living room floor, Zuko apologizing with so much sincerity, Zuko curled up against him at night, Zuko laughing at his jokes and squeezing his hand and petting his dog and staring into his eyes under the early morning sun like there was nothing else in the world he'd rather look at.

Zuko, burdened by the whole world, having torn himself open to let Sokka poke at all the fucked up parts and still being willing to let Sokka leave if that was what he wanted. If that would mean Sokka would be better off. 

"No," Sokka said finally.

Azula's eyes snapped to his. "What did you say?"

"I said 'no'," Sokka replied, "because you’re wrong about him. That's not the Zuko I know."

The smile she gave him was almost pitying. "You really are sweet and simple, aren't you?" She shook her head.

"Maybe I am," Sokka replied, frowning, "but I don't think you're giving Zuko enough credit for who he's become."

There any sense of boredom dropped, just for a moment, her eyes narrowing, before she seemed to take control of herself again. 

"I've seen him in and out of plenty of relationships," Azula said dismissively. "It doesn't end well for anyone. Not for Zuko and not for whatever misguided partner he ends up with."

"Actually, he’s told me about his past relationships, so I don't believe you," Sokka said, and then added, cocking his head, "and you know what? I actually think you've got it reversed, because he's much more prickly on the outside than the inside. And any of that painful stuff, whatever makes you think he’d still hit or yell--it's impulses he's working on and fighting against. Because," he swallowed but continued firmly, "whatever your dad might have tried to do to him, he never got rid of the things that make Zuko a good person."

Azula's smile was slow and patronizing. “That's very cute,” she said. “But my father doesn’t  _ try _ things unless he succeeds.” She rubbed the sharp points of her nails along the pad of her thumb. "I'd know."

“Well, I think you're wrong,” Sokka said with a bit more security, because the more he verbalized it, the more he remembered, knew it was true. "About both of you, maybe. Your information might just be out of date."

Azula’s lips turned down a moment. “Excuse me?”

“You should spend some time with your brother and really look at who he is  _ now _ ,” Sokka said, “rather than whoever he was when your guys’ dad was still around. Because that’s not the same person.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Azula said, but it didn’t come out nearly as confident as her many previous statements.

Sokka shrugged. “Sure, what do I know? Just the guy who’s spent almost every day with your brother for months and only knows this really great, trauma-surviving, incredibly kind, twenty-six-year-old Zuko. And yeah, he fucks shit up sometimes, but he's trying to be better. He keeps trying! Oh  _ and _ ,” he continued before she could talk over him, because now he was on a roll and he could feel it inside him and this was  _ right _ , “even if, by some crazy chance, he really can’t care about me the way someone’s ‘supposed to'--whatever the hell  _ that _ means..." Sokka straightened his back, feeling something finally give way within him, some part of himself he could finally recognize, "Well, then I’d still want him anyway because it's  _ him _ ."

Azula's expression flickered with surprise before it went guarded again in a way that reminded Sokka a bit of Zuko, and he felt his heart squeeze in his chest.

"So at the end of the day, if he is broken glass," he finished, heart squeezing, "I guess I'll just put on some really thick gloves and keep right on picking up the pieces."

He wasn't entirely sure the metaphor made sense (hers had been much cleaner), but Azula stared at him, that odd vulnerability coming to her face again. There was a tense moment between them, spanning that hallway, before Azula spoke again.

"You... love him," she said. "You’re _in_ _love_ with my _brother_."

It hit him like a slap upside the head.

"I mean..." Sokka replied after a moment of truly stupefying clarity, “yeah, I... apparently am.”

It had been easy to deny it to Katara when Sokka could tell himself they were just having fun, that it was a casual sort of thing they were still figuring out. But he couldn't pretend that any part of what he felt about Zuko now could be called  _ casual _ . It was something else entirely, something so much larger than he’d felt before, something that ached under his sternum and made him want to keep going, keep coming back, keep trying even when it was hard. And that was new.

Sokka rubbed a hand down his face. “I don't think I realized it until just now, though, so that’s… well, whoops.”

Azula blinked at him once as he ran through his mental realization.

"He just keeps pulling me back in with his particular brand of deep sincerity and surly charm,” Sokka explained, maybe to her, maybe to himself, as he opened his hands with a smile. “So yep, I guess I’m in love with your stupid brother.” 

He was sure now but part of him realized he'd probably been loving him since that first night in the hotel room before the wedding. Maybe longer. Maybe all along. 

Damn.

Azula's face hadn’t changed, still caught in that unsure, disbelieving expression, and Sokka almost felt bad for her. Clearly this conversation had not gone the way she’d expected it to go, and she didn’t seem to be someone used to being the one on uneven footing. She was still an even sharper-edged, devilishly honed version of Zuko, but Sokka thought he was starting to understand her a little too. The siblings were very different, sure, but underneath, Sokka could guess at a lot of the same insecurity and fear.

So Sokka talked more. Once he got going, talking was something he could do.

"And hey," he said, gesturing toward her, "seems like dear ol' Dad didn't succeed with fucking you up completely either.”

Azula’s eyebrows drew together. “What do you know about it?” she snapped, all defensive and barky like her brother for a moment, and Sokka almost laughed.

“Well you didn't rat out Zuko's sexuality as a kid even though you could have,  _ and  _ you care about your brother's boyfriend's wellbeing now--or, whatever this has been,” Sokka offered, gesturing between them and trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. “Either way, that's some good stuff to tell Dr. Ling."

Azula frowned at him. "Are you mocking me?"

"That time I wasn't," Sokka said, smiling. "Why? Do you want me to?"

"You wouldn't dare!" Azula said, glaring in a strangely familiar way that actually did make Sokka laugh this time, which seemed to throw her completely off balance.

"I mean, that's like sixty percent of my relationship with your brother, so…" he said, opening his hands.

Azula blinked at him. "And Zuko… let's you? He  _ lets you  _ mock him?"

"Well,  _ yeah _ ," Sokka said with another short laugh, "because it's fun and he mocks me too. It's our whole dumb thing.” He shrugged. “We just know that under it we do actually like and care about each other a lot. I mean," he ran a hand through his hair, "I've never been vulnerable with  _ anyone _ the way I am with him, and I think he'd say the same thing. So I guess the mocking's just the fun frosting on top of some actual trust. The cherry on top? The gravy? I don't know, I'm not a poet." He waved a hand. "You get it."

Azula looked like she definitely did  _ not _ get it, but something had softened in her somehow. Or Sokka had so blinded her with nonsense she didn't know which way was up anymore and couldn't respond normally.

Eh, either way.

"You're very strange," Azula finally declared.

Sokka raised an eyebrow. "Well, yeah. That's sort of a given."

"But I think I understand why Zuko cares so weirdly much about you," she said, sounding almost surprised.

"Um, ok?"

Azula nodded sharply. "I suppose I can accept you dating my brother."

"Oh. Well. Thank you? I'm glad you approve," Sokka said. "Wait, was this all some weird sister test?"

"Oh, not at all," Azula said without concern. "I still truly believe Zuzu's demons will eat you alive and spit you back out again, leaving you a small, sad version of yourself, but I’ve done my part to warn you, so I won't stand in the way."

Sokka stared at her, trying to process  _ that  _ sort of statement. 

"Well… great?” is where he finally landed. “As long as we're on the same page that I'm gonna keep dating him, and caring about him, and protecting him, and macking on his sexy-ass face, and all that other good stuff, whatever you might think about our relationship."

Azula's lips curled in disgust. 

"You will never say something like that to me again," she declared, and Sokka smiled.

“What, macking on your sexy brother?” he teased, and was briefly worried that Azula was  _ actually  _ going to kill him now, her frown had so heavily deepened.

"Fine," Sokka offered to her angry expression, "I won’t talk about how hot your brother is, and  _ you're _ not gonna poke at things you know hurt him, not while I'm around. Otherwise," he smiled a little wider, "I really will kick your fucking ass."

At that, Azula actually laughed, a high, surprising sort of sound that wasn't nearly as satisfying as Zuko's but still felt pretty good to have achieved. At least this way she seemed less likely to murder him.

"You could never, trust me," Azula said, delicately wiping one eye.

"Well, hopefully we won't have to find out," Sokka said.

"Yeah, for  _ your _ sake."

"You keep telling yourself that," Sokka said, grinning. "So are we good here? Should we head back to the table?"

Azula gave him one last long, measured look.

"Alright," said, pushing off from the wall and heading toward the door.

Sokka followed but caught her arm for just a moment, which caused her to whirl and glare in a way that made him glad to still have a hand attached to his body.

"But hey," he continued anyway, "don't tell him that I'm stupid in love with him, ok? We're sorta taking things slower and I don't wanna freak him out.

Azula sighed. "Fine. I won't tell him," she said, starting forward again, "but touch me again and I'll castrate you."

"Um, noted," Sokka said, believing her completely, which was  _ terrifying  _ (what kind of intense, murder-y genes ran in this family?), and he held the door open for her to pass back through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to all the readers, kudos-ers, and commenters. You're all wonderful :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iroh shows his support and family is solidified.
> 
> (if you're just here for the fluff, this is where it returns, because from here on out, it's all just fluff and healthy communication, my friends!)

Sokka and Azula approached the table together just as Iroh was settling in his chair again, and Zuko looked up at the pair of them in surprise.

"So…" he said, glancing between them as they both took their seats, "you were somewhere  _ together _ and you're both still alive."

"Zuko…" Iroh chided, shaking his head.

"Sokka and I were having a very civil conversation," Azula supplied, refilling her tea for herself.

"Yep, no threats of castration at all," Sokka said with a smile, and Azula actually smirked at him just a little.

"Uh…" Zuko said, "should we unpack  _ that _ statement?"

"Nah," Sokka replied. "Really, we're all good. We…" he shot Azula a look, "understand each other? I think. Enough."

"Understanding is the first step to acceptance," Iroh said sagely, nodding at the table, and Zuko just huffed in response.

"Yes, Uncle," Azula said, shooting her brother a look, "I suppose we're all learning to  _ accept  _ each other today."

Zuko still glared at her a moment but didn't rise to her bait again. Maybe because he didn't need to, and maybe just because for  _ once _ the universe was gonna let Sokka be right and give him some clear indication of that fact.

"And everything's good here?" Sokka said, motioning between Zuko and his uncle.

Zuko shot his uncle a half-annoyed, half-indulgent smile and replied, "Yeah, we're definitely good."

"Yeah?" Sokka said with a smile. "Everything's… out? That wasn't meant to be a pun," he added quickly.

Zuko actually laughed, just a little, something relieved and warm there, and Sokka felt a strange surge in his chest. That face, that laugh, was the perfect reminder of all of those other moments before, every little interaction that solidified that Zuko was worth it. Worth the difficulty and the drama because of who he was.

"Yeah, apparently my uncle's known for a while and prepared for whenever I told him." Zuko continued and nodded down at the table and whatever his hand was curled around. "Want a pin?"

He raised his hand to reveal two small, enamel flags: one rainbow and one pink-purple-and-blue. Sokka couldn't hold back his delighted little gasp.

"Your uncle got you pride pins!" he said and then looked at Iroh. "How long have you been waiting to spring these on him?" 

Iroh smiled. "Long enough."

Azula made some unclear comment under her breath and sipped her tea, but Zuko and Sokka ignored her. Iroh simply rested a hand on her shoulder for just a second, giving her a kind look that made her bristle, and Sokka stifled a laugh at her irritated face. Then he looked back at Zuko and the pins.

"But wait," he asked, eyes narrowing a little, "why gay  _ and _ bi?"

Zuko snorted and shot his uncle, who was positively radiating unfiltered joy, a pointed look.

"Apparently he knew I wasn't straight but wasn't sure how I 'chose to self-identify'," Zuko said with small air quotes, "so he tried to cover his bases just in case."

"I got them from a website called Etsy," Iroh said proudly, returning both hands to his teacup, "and the woman, The Rainbow Muse, who ran the shop was kind enough to talk me through some options that might be appropriate to my nephew." He sent another fond look at Zuko. "And she assured me that if it was something else, there were more pins that could be special ordered: pansexual or polysexual or--" 

"Ok, ok," Zuko said, waving a hand and turning a little red. "These are fine."

Sokka wanted to laugh at the whole situation, at Iroh practically beaming at his specific show of support for his nephew and Azula watching it all with an impassive but palpable judgement and Zuko's obvious embarrassment all mingled up with being happy and relieved and himself. It was night and day from their first interactions today. In fact, it was… strangely familial, honestly, more than any previous interactions had been, even including Azula's eye rolls and crossed arms and the pink at the top of Zuko's cheeks. Even odd and rough-edged, maybe this actually was still a family under it all.

Like, a 'what the fuck?' sort of family, obviously, but that was a long way from what they could have been.

"Did you get these back when I was twenty and had that jacket with all the pins and patches?" Zuko asked, raising an eyebrow at his uncle.

"It… may have been around that time," Iroh admitted, and Zuko let out a sort of snort.

"Please tell me you still have that jacket," Sokka said.

Zuko shot him a look. "I… might."

"Oh my god," Sokka said, going for puppy-dog eyes, "please wear it again, and please add your new pins, and please go full broody twenty-year-old Zuko for me sometime."

Azula let out a long, disapproving sigh, sounding exhausted from the whole display. "Oh Zuzu..." 

"Don't start, Zuli," Zuko said with a smirk. "Uncle's got a pin for you too."

"I am neither someone who would  _ ever  _ wear something so unsightly or someone who's not straight," Azula said stiffly, "so I have no idea what…"

She trailed off as Iroh slid a pin across the table to rest in front of her: a red enamel heart that said, in tiny cursive, 'She persisted'. Azula stared at it, unspeaking, for a long moment.

"You got this… for me?" she asked, looking over at Iroh and then at Zuko.

"Well, it's not for me," Zuko said, picking up the rainbow pin. "I'm not a 'she,' and I've already got my Uncle-support pin. So yeah, I'd say that one's for you."

"I got this one a bit later," Iroh confessed, tapping on the table near the pin, "but I kept them all together, just waiting for the right opportunity to show how much I love and support my niece and nephew."

Azula stared at him in amazement, something strange in her expression.

Zuko grinned at them a moment and then pinned the little rainbow flag to the collar of his jacket, as nonchalant as if this wasn't some larger revelation, as if he hadn't been panicking all day and the days leading up to this meeting. As if he hadn't purposefully hidden that part of himself from his family out of self preservation. Sokka watched him with a fond smile and then found his own jacket being grabbed so that Zuko could affix the bi flag onto his chest. 

"I figured I'd go more general pride," Zuko said, patting the pin on Sokka's jacket, "and you could go full Team Purple."

Sokka grinned at him, probably looking dumb and sappy as hell, but he didn't care.

"I'm glad you let me come along to this," he said softly. "Terrible plan and all."

"Yeah. I really couldn’t have done this without you," Zuko replied, looking considerably lighter and more himself than Sokka had seen him in weeks.

And damn, Sokka really wanted to kiss him, even right there in front of his uncle and with the looming threat of Azula cutting off his balls, but he held back. Instead, he simply raised a hand and allowed himself a moment to cup Zuko's cheek, brushing his thumb along the edge of the scar, before they settled back into their chairs again.

"Oh," Zuko said, looking at Iroh and glancing aside at Azula, both of whom were very clearly watching them, before taking a quick breath, "Sokka and I aren't just 'together'. He's my boyfriend. Has been for a couple months."

Azula rolled her eyes.

"We were friends, sort of, and," Zuko continued anyway, looking at his uncle, "then I went to his sister's wedding with him and it started there and now we're in a serious relationship and it's-it's really good--which you didn't need to know but, uh…"

"I mean, it  _ is _ really good," Sokka offered, shrugging, and Zuko's quick smile was grateful.

Azula gave a dramatic sigh. "A blind person could figure you were dating from being near you two for longer than a minute," she muttered. "It's almost insulting how stupid you think we are."

"I mean, she's not totally wrong," Sokka said, adding quickly at Zuko's expression, "Not about the whole 'calling your family stupid' thing! Just that Toph is  _ literally _ blind and had us figured out after one conversation, and we weren't even actually together then."

"Well, still…" Zuko said, looking back at his uncle, who hadn't reacted, "if today is apparently 'open and honest' day, I figured I'd make it extra clear.” He gestured to himself. “So here’s me, bisexual, with my boyfriend, Sokka, also bisexual.”

Sokka looked aside at him, and Zuko met his eyes.

"I truly appreciate you telling me," Iroh said solemnly with a deep nod, "and I hope you know I fully love and support you."

Zuko huffed, looking a little pink. "Yeah, all right. I get it. I may have made this a bigger deal than necessary."

Iroh said nothing, although his expression indicated that he agreed.

"Well with our dad, it  _ would _ have been a big deal," Azula offered, maybe trying to be helpful, because there was a certain level of darkness in her expression. "He couldn't…" She glanced at Sokka before settling on Zuko again. "He couldn't handle us even thinking or speaking for ourselves." She flipped a strand of her hair away again. "So if back then, even after you left home, you'd actually brought a boyfriend right in front of him and started using words like "bisexual"? He would have found a way to wreck the other half of your face."

"Hey!" Sokka snapped immediately, and he wasn't sure when it was that he'd gotten such an aggressive, Pavlovian reaction to people mentioning Zuko's scar, but he was about ready to throw hands with Azula again, testicles be damned.

Zuko lay a hand on his arm. "She's not really wrong, Sokka," he said, surprisingly calm, "although  _ why _ she has to say it that way…"

"I'm just being  _ honest _ ," she said.

"You and  _ honesty,"  _ Sokka grumbled back.

Azula leveled him a look but didn't comment.

"What matters  _ now _ ," Zuko said over their obvious tension, "is that what our  _ dad  _ thinks about what we do or how he would have reacted in the past doesn't matter anymore." Zuko managed a weak smile at Azula. "Because he's out of the picture and we're not letting him back in. Right, Azula?"

He tipped his chin up to his sister, and she raised hers too, but whether in solidarity or challenge wasn't totally clear. Sokka watched them and reached out and rested a hand on Zuko's thigh again.

Zuko looked over at him and then seemed to be deliberating a moment before he lifted his tea cup in a kind of toast. 

"Fuck that guy," he announced, looking around the table. "This is my family now."

"Here here," Sokka said immediately, raising his own teacup, that large, scary thing inside him that he’d only recently identified as love getting even bigger.

He'd been included in the tiny circle of Zuko's family, which felt like a massive honor. 

Maybe Iroh and Azula were both right in their way, that Zuko was a little bit vulnerable and a little bit deadly, that it was a privilege and also a risk to have him let you into his life. But Sokka had never been much for being intimidated by danger, and he wasn't about to start now. 

Time to invest in some thick gloves. 

Iroh grinned, small and gentle and understanding, and raised his cup briefly up as well, and then all eyes were on Azula, waiting. Hers were sharp again as she watched them, expression pointed and wary, but after a moment, her fingers curled delicately around the handle of her cup. She lifted it and looked Zuko straight in the eye.

"Fine," she said, "to this family--Uncle and Zuko, I mean, not this one." She gestured with her other hand to Sokka, who made a face at her. “I barely know him, but…” her voice was careful, “yes. To my family.”

From the smile that broke across Zuko's face, you'd have thought she'd leapt across the table and hugged him or found a cure for cancer.

“To our family,” Iroh agreed gravely, lifting his cup again.

Then all four tea cups clinked together in the middle in the oddest type of 'cheers' Sokka had ever been a part of. But he was certainly glad to be included.

Without meaning to, Sokka scanned for the little rainbow pin on Zuko's collar and then looked back around the table at this strange little family, the delicate balancing act the three people before him had created out of a lifetime of violence. It was clearly still messy, still tenuous, but it was a testament to their strength (or maybe their stubbornness) that they were here at all. And somehow, Sokka had been let into it as well, this strange inner circle of such fragile, carefully built trust.

As Sokka watched them lapse into an easier, more natural conversation, he found his eyes caught on a bit of heart-shaped red expertly placed against the crisp black of Azula's blazer lapel, and he let himself smile just a little more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always for reading and commenting! Your interpretations of these characters and events continue to be galaxy-brain levels of amazing :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka and Zuko leave the tea shop and important things finally get said.

"So… what your family lacks in numbers," Sokka said as they headed out of the teashop as evening began to come on, "they definitely make up for in intensity."

Zuko gave a light laugh and took Sokka's hand. "You're not wrong."

Sokka gave his hand a squeeze as they walked, the early evening cool and golden with late autumn, the sidewalk sprinkled with the best of crunchy leaves Sokka made a point of stepping on. He glanced aside at Zuko, relaxed and more unburdened than he'd seen him since he'd first proposed this family meet-up, although something still lingered behind his eyes.

"So you’re feeling better?" Sokka asked.

Zuko met his eyes for a moment. "I actually... think I am," he replied. 

"Then can I say something that might be cheesy and stupid?" Sokka asked as they kept walking.

"I'd expect nothing less from you," Zuko said with a crooked grin.

Sokka allowed himself a bit of a laugh at that before then saying, seriousness returning to his voice, "I'm really proud of you."

Zuko looked over at him in surprise. 

"You... are?" he said, voice coming out a bit weak.

"Of course I am!" Sokka said, smiling. "You went in with the most terrible, wafer thin, sorry excuse for a plan ever that you dragged me into with  _ no _ explanation--"

"I can just  _ feel _ the pride."

"--but you turned it into something really brave and really good," Sokka finished, shooting him a look. "Your family history is a straight shitshow and your sister is terrifying, and yet you came out  _ and _ you were kind and understanding to Azula." He smiled. "In my book that's a hell of a lot to be proud of."

Zuko stopped, staring at him, so Sokka stopped too.

"Really?" Zuko asked, and Sokka chuckled again.

"Well,  _ yeah _ ," he replied. "I'm super proud of you because that shit sucks even with a  _ normal  _ family and yours…" Sokka waggled his hand.

"Yeah, not normal," Zuko agreed, still looking caught off guard. “I… um. Thank you?”

Sokka’s eyebrows wrinkled. “You’re welcome? What’s the face?”

Zuko was still looking at him with something curious in his expression. "Well for one, I'm amazed you didn't bolt the moment I dumped that all on you…"

Sokka shrugged. "Well, I am amazing."

“But more than that," Zuko added with a smile, "I don’t know why I thought I could just… hide that part of myself forever without it hurting me.” His expression ticked a little, and he rubbed the back of his head. “Hiding a  _ lot _ , actually. I’ve spent so much time carving off parts of myself and only showing certain sides to certain people.” He shook his head, looking away.

“Yeah, well,” Sokka offered, “trauma’s a hell of a motivator.”

Zuko gave him a weak smile.

“I always thought my big issue was being angry,” he said, voice a little distant, “but shit, it was being  _ afraid _ .”

Sokka squeezed his hand, unsure what to say to that but happy to be there for support. 

Zuko’s expression went a bit more serious again, and then he ran his free hand through his hair and tugged on Sokka's hand with the other. There was a little alley between the buildings, the edges where the walls met the street clustered with damp leaves, and Zuko pulled Sokka in and turned to look at him.

“Cozy,” Sokka offered, looking around at the alley and then back at Zuko.

His expression had gone warm and intense, watching Sokka closely in a way that did something to his stomach.

"I spent my whole damn life thinking I could just separate out the chunks of my life, keep everything nice and contained and apart," Zuko said, stepping closer to him, "but then…"

Sokka took a step back and hit the brick of the wall, rough under the palms he flattened against it. Then Zuko was there, angled against him and giving him one fierce, burning kiss, a hand coming up to cup the back of his neck, to hold him steady. Without thinking, Sokka wrapped his arms around Zuko's waist and held too, sinking into the heat of that unexpected kiss.

"But then  _ you _ came along," Zuko finished at a near whisper as he drew back, resting their foreheads together.

Sokka shut his eyes, something melting softly through him.

"You came crashing into every damn aspect of my life," Zuko continued, moving back to look at him, and Sokka opened his eyes too. "Whether I wanted you to or not, you were there and bulldozing over that separation. All my nice little categories, gone, thanks to one attractive, stubborn, loud-mouthed neighbor boy."

"Um… sorry?" Sokka offered with a crooked sort of grin, and Zuko smiled back.

“Don’t be,” he murmured. “Because I… needed you, and I can't--there aren't words for how grateful I am to have you."

Zuko looked a bit nervous as he said it, reaching up a hand to stroke Sokka's cheek. The gentle touch made Sokka feel a little tingly again, and he wasn’t sure entirely what had brought this on or why they were doing this very close, sort of kissing, sort of conversation in an alley just off the sidewalk. But he also wasn’t complaining.

If Zuko wanted to talk, Sokka would listen.

"I guess I'm not used to it,” Zuko said softly, looking away, “someone like you who cares and feels so loudly. I'm… better with you around, and I wanna make  _ you  _ better too. But I still…" 

He leaned to rest his forehead against Sokka's shoulder, and Sokka raised a hand to stroke the back of his head. A sort of reflex now, to hold that way, to tuck the other man against himself as best he could.

Zuko was speaking now into the fabric of his coat as he admitted, "I'm still not sure I deserve it, or that it's even possible for me to help you like you help me.” There was a cold, resigned pain underlying his words. “God that sounds pathetic, but I… part of me still just thinks I'll ruin you." 

Sokka tugged him closer, cupping his head. He bent and pressed a soft kiss to his hair, which was all he could reach.

"You're not broken glass," Sokka whispered, realizing belatedly that that probably didn't make any sense to anyone but him and Azula. But the point still stood, although he clarified by adding, "You're not destined to hurt me, Zuko. I just don’t believe that."

Zuko moved his head to look up at him through his lashes.

"But Sokka, I  _ could _ ," he murmured. "I  _ could _ hurt you, because it's all still in me, all that messed up shit, and I  _ already  _ hurt you, and--”

“Ok, but I’ve hurt you too, remember?” Sokka replied. “Some of that isn’t  _ you _ , Zuko, it’s just… being people. Being us.”

Zuko looked away again. “Still. Too much of it comes from me, too many possible ways I could mess you up too, and I don't  _ want _ to."

"And that's the part that  _ matters _ ," Sokka insisted, pressing their heads together again, feeling the breath of autumn wind flowing through the alley, "you not wanting to. Because you actually care. About not causing hurt. About not hurting me. That's the important bit you keep  _ forgetting _ ."

Zuko watched him and swallowed. "What if that’s not enough?"

Sokka wet his lips, heart pounding. 

"Maybe I want you regardless," he said softly. "Maybe I'd pick you anyway."

Zuko drew back to look at Sokka more fully, obvious in his expression that he was still so surprised that someone cared about him at all, that he didn't quite believe it. That Sokka cared about him. And finally,  _ finally _ Sokka thought he understood.

_ That _ was what his dad had broken in him, not his ability to love or be kind or let people in. He'd smashed up that part of Zuko that thought he deserved love from others, that allowed him to believe he was worthy of care. That part had been taken out and crumpled up and shoved back into him, and he'd had to wrap it up with the anger and fear and deflection so he didn't feel it all the time, didn't get constantly scratched by the self-effacement his dad had created. He'd buried it under narrative distance and dry humor and caring for other people and lashing out at them when they poked too close to that deep-seated fear. Because at the heart of it,  _ that _ was why his dad's presence still haunted him, the reminder of what he'd been trained to believe about himself: that under it all he was shameful, inadequate, and unworthy.

It was in his face now, the wary gaze, half turned away. It made sense now, the parts Sokka had understood throughout. He hadn't understood entirely, but he'd seen it, the damage done. He just hadn't had enough pieces yet to finish the Zuko's History Puzzle, not until now.

Oh god, Sokka loved him like the birth of a new star: brilliant, huge, and burning.

The silence had been growing, and Sokka wasn't sure how much of this was registering on his face, how much he dared possibly say. So instead of saying anything right then, he caught Zuko's face in his hands, shifted on his toes, and pressed a kiss to his forehead. He let his lips rest there, as if that touch could somehow explain the ridiculous enormousness of it all. 

He drew back and made his mouth be slow, be precise, be clear, for maybe once in his damn life.

"To me, Zuko," he said, his lips still nearly against his skin, "you are worth the risk."

Sokka drew back, and there was a beat of tense quiet between them as Zuko stared, expression trapped in surprise. 

"Oh Sokka..." Zuko murmured finally and stepped back a little more, something else, fear or guilt or pain flashing across his face.

Shit, it had been too much. Sokka had played his hand, even if he hadn't said the words themselves. It had been too strong, and Zuko was gonna run, dodge and argue and get distant again. Sokka couldn't fix it, but he almost opened his mouth to take it back anyway. 

He paused and held it in, done with back-pedaling on his feelings out of fear.

Maybe they were both learning how not to be afraid.

It was odd watching Zuko process, the emotions skidding almost imperceptibly across his face as Sokka waited for him to say something. It would have been sort of funny if Sokka didn't love him so goddamn much, but he did, so instead, it was like waiting for a firing squad. Except he had to watch it: no blindfold, no cigarette. Just Zuko who could pull the trigger if he wanted, and Sokka would just be there, exposed and vulnerable and shot. 

Something clicked in Zuko's features, a settled sort of surprised realization. His eyes looked past Sokka's face, and Sokka watched him, still concerned and going sick with the waiting.

"Uh, Zuko?" he asked carefully. "You ok there?"

Zuko's eyes snapped back to his, sharp and bright and sure.

"Well fuck," he said abruptly. "Sokka, I'm in love with you."

Sokka blinked once.

"Oh thank god," he said, and he stepped forward, grabbed Zuko by the collars of his jacket, and kissed him.

Zuko gasped into it and actually stumbled back a little bit, clearly not expecting that response, and Sokka felt the new pin on the jacket collar jab at his hand. So he simply let it go to instead hold the back of Zuko's head and fit their lips together a little better, hot breath in his mouth and the lingering taste of tea on his lips. Zuko did the same, wrapping his arms around him and holding tight.

"So you--?" Zuko attempted between kisses, and Sokka had the idiotic realization that he hadn't actually said it back.

"I'm in love with you too," Sokka said to clarify, feeling more confident about it with each moment, so he simply said it again, felt it in his mouth and spoke it like a fact into the air: "I love you, Zuko, ok? I  _ love  _ you."

Zuko smiled and dropped their foreheads together again, reaching up to hold Sokka's face with one hand.

"I… my god," he said. “I love you too."

Sokka smiled at the near-laughter on the other man’s face, something still strange and wild and surprised there.

“Now that I've realized it--now that I see what that damn feeling is,” Zuko admitted, shutting his eyes, “it's like my whole body hurts." He kissed him again, laughing a little. "Is this normal? Am I dying? What've you done to me?"

The last was almost accusatory, and Sokka laughed too and pulled him into a tight hug, heart swelling, that new star just blazing happily away in his chest.

Abstractly, he was aware of the sound of people passing on the sidewalk and cars going by on the street, but it all seemed strangely far away from where they stood, both in their jackets with their new pins and each other and this realized feeling between them. Sokka let himself burrow into the warmth and scent of Zuko as he held him.

"I don't know, but you also did it to me, so we're even," Sokka said into his collar, "because this is definitely something else. What do--how do people run around feeling like this all the time? Do they? Or are we just bad at this like we are at everything else?"

"I have no idea," Zuko admitted, cupping the back of Sokka's neck, "because it's huge and terrifying and I'm worried I’ll find a way to fuck it up. But god, you mean so much to me, Sokka..." he pressed his face into Sokka's shoulder again, "so don't go anywhere, ok?"

Sokka drew back and gave him a look, hands moving to cup either side of his jaw.

The fear was still there, that crumpled up bit that other people had broken. It hung there behind Zuko's eyes, but damn it, Sokka would just have to love him even harder.

"Oh my sweet, ridiculous, Hot Downstairs Boyfriend that I Love," Sokka said with all the affection he could muster, "where in  _ fuck _ do you think I'd go right now?" 

Then he kissed him swiftly again, and Zuko’s face eased, the naturally pulled down lines from the scar going a bit softer, allowing all of him a little softness. 

"Do you realize all the new terms of endearment this opens up?" Sokka said, probably beaming. He considered, head cocked to the side, while Zuko watched him with a sort of skeptical amusement. "Dearest? My heart? Light of my life? Beloved?" He wrinkled his nose. "Those got weird and old timey really fast, huh?"

Zuko rolled his eyes. "You're lucky I love you," he said with an added smile, and Sokka felt his face light up again.

"You  _ love _ me," he repeated, leaning forward to nuzzle their noses together. "Zuko, my love, my darling, my--"

Zuko pulled him in to kiss him, cutting off his words, and Sokka had never been so glad to be shut up in his life.

"Why do we always end up having our important declarations outside?" Zuko muttered as he pulled back again, laughter at the corners of his eyes.

"At least there was less yelling this time," Sokka offered and let himself be pushed backward into the wall once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always, dear readers! In a couple days, I'll post the last two chapters in one go just to avoid Christmas, so here's me wishing you all happy holidays!!
> 
> Again, always feel free to comment, kudos, or throw interpretations or story ideas at me on tumblr - onmyliteraturebullshitagain


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka and Zuko wander downtown and finally talk.

They didn’t head back to the apartments right away, instead wandering the old downtown around the Jasmine Dragon together, Zuko’s arm looped around Sokka’s neck and holding him close. Something had shifted between them after the insanity of the Jasmine Dragon and that little alley. Something palpable and giddy and nice, and apparently, for once, they were both just leaning into it. So they looked in windows and chatted about the stuff inside and talked a little on and off about the Jasmine Dragon and Zuko's family. They took stupid selfies together and held hands and acted like dumb, giddy children rather than grown men in their twenties. Sokka also sent a Snapchat of them together, Sokka beaming and Zuko looking amused, to Katara with just the caption  _ ok yeah i love him _ . When she responded, a selfie of her and Aang both giving thumbs ups and looking happy and smug with the caption  _ Obviously! We called it WEEKS ago! You guys are just dumb! _ , Sokka made sure to show it to Zuko. And Zuko just laughed and shook his head. 

"Did  _ you _ know weeks ago?" he asked, looking aside at him.

"No," Sokka admitted. "Or maybe part of me did, but I don't think I was ready to admit it to myself until today."

Zuko was silent for a moment before he tipped his head Sokka’s direction and asked softly, "Why?"

Sokka made a face, immediately tensing. 

"I don't know, man," he said, still tucked comfortably under Zuko's arm, and that made this marginally easier to say. "Because 'love' seemed big and weird and I was scared of it, I guess. If I don't  _ love _ you, then maybe I can keep that distance, feel like I'm protecting myself in case something happens." He shook his head a few times, pulling away a little. "Ugh, all the  _ emotions _ . Can't we just go make-out somewhere?"

Zuko glanced over at him.

"Maybe in a second," he said and then walked them over to a bench and sat down. 

Sokka sat beside him, a little confused about the seriousness in his expression as Zuko rotated to face him. 

"Hey," Zuko said softly, taking his hand, "you know how grateful I am for everything you've done for me recently, right? That you took care of me and stood by me and supported me through all my bullshit?"

Sokka nodded, a little confused because he figured this had already been covered. Weren't they on to the happy, dumb portion of the day still? But no, Zuko’s expression was still all gentle and serious.

"But you also know," Zuko continued, squeezing his hand, "that I'm... here for you too, right? That I can  _ also _ be the one doing the caring and supporting sometimes?"

Sokka looked away for a moment. "Yeah, I… know that."

"Do you?" Zuko replied, jiggling their joined hands. "Because there's been something off about you for a little while but I didn't know how to ask about it and you weren't saying anything, and obviously all  _ that _ ." He made a vague gesture away from them. "But since today is weird honesty day, apparently, I'm gonna just ask directly. What's going on and... what can I do?"

There was an awkward moment then, a car going by on the street and more leaves being kicked up in its wake as Sokka tried to figure out how exactly to talk about anything.

"I don't…" Sokka started, shifting on the cold bench, "I'm not good at that. I just like, you know, being there for  _ other _ people."

"And just bottling all your own shit up?" Zuko replied with a bit of a smile. 

"You  _ so  _ don't get to talk to me about bottling shit up," Sokka said with an accusatory point of his finger, and Zuko chuckled.

"Yeah, but recently my shit's been spilled out everywhere, so I think it's your turn," Zuko said, nudging his shoulder.

Sokka chewed on the inside of his cheek, unsure what to say, how to even begin. Everything in him rebelled against saying anything at all. 

"Just give me, like, a sentence," Zuko prodded, smiling a little. "Just that, and then I'll leave you alone about it if you want. I just… I want you to talk to me too."

Sokka looked over and met his eyes, which were being so kind and patient it almost hurt. He was just unsure how to do this, how to explain, if he even  _ wanted  _ to explain.

But no, this had been part of his plan before. He should see it through. 

"I'm…" he tried slowly, forcing the words up, "I guess I'm scared of people... leaving, so I, um, I got really insecure and hurt when you pushed me away and disappeared. But then when I knew  _ why _ you did, I felt bad for still being upset because your stuff is actually serious and mine's just… stupid." He swallowed. "There. Two sentences. How's that?"

Zuko's expression was soft as he leaned forward and pulled him into a hug. 

"Your stuff isn't stupid," he said.

"But it is!" Sokka replied immediately, pulling back. "Everyone's been through so much--you and your horrible family shit and Katara losing Mom when she was so little, and my dad having to leave us with Gran Gran to work in another state when we were younger." He kept going as Zuko's expression changed, still desperate to get it out and explain. "Or Toph with her bitchy, neglectful parents! And Aang losing so much of his family when he was just a kid and--and I can't put my dumb bullshit on other people! Not when I could  _ help _ them instead, or cheer them up, or make them feel better! That's not fair to them because my shit doesn't matter as much and I can  _ handle _ it!" He took a large gulp of air. "Ok, that was a lot of sentences, so can we be done now?"

Zuko's expression was actually weirdly… sad, which didn't make sense, and Sokka didn't like it. Then when he reached out and held Sokka's face, his eyes were so tender Sokka had to look away. So he focused on his jawline instead of his eyes, the slope of skin there, the line of shadow, things that didn't make him feel as much.

"You truly are," Zuko whispered, "the most loving person I've ever met."

Sokka scoffed at that but continued not looking at him, feeling the warmth in his face and the twist in his stomach. 

"Really," Zuko said softly, dipping his head to find Sokka's eyes again, which Sokka allowed a bit begrudgingly, "thank you for telling me."

Sokka managed a little bit of a nod at that.

"But please believe me that you're worth just as much as everyone you care about," Zuko said, stroking his cheek, and Sokka had to look away again, wildly uncomfortable. "And… I'm gonna do whatever I can to be there for you, ok? I wasn't lying when I said I wouldn't just disappear like that again, because I won't.  _ And _ I can come up with an Angst Day word if you still want because I'm gonna do whatever I can to help you not feel insecure about being with me. Ok?"

Sokka reached up and wrapped his hand around one of Zuko's wrists and hung on, even if he still couldn't look him in the eye.

"Somehow," Zuko finished, "I'm gonna prove to you that you're worth taking care of too--that I want to take care of you." He found Sokka's eyes again. "Is that... ok with you?"

And Sokka nodded, a lump in his throat, because there was that sincerity again, overwhelming and kind and good.

"Yeah," he replied softly, "yeah, that… sounds ok."

Zuko's face broke into a soft smile.

"But you're not gonna make me do this a lot, right?" Sokka asked. "We're not gonna have to have, like, daily feelings sessions or something, are we? Because I genuinely hate this."

"God no," Zuko replied, making a face. "You think I wanna talk about my feelings  _ daily _ ? I'm much more with you on the just making out instead of talking."

"So this is just us trying to actually communicate better again?" Sokka replied, and Zuko nodded, still grinning a little. "But we can do so many  _ better  _ things with our mouths. I tell amazing jokes, for instance. You do that thing with your tongue on my--"

"We are in public," Zuko said sharply, and Sokka laughed.

"Wow, dirty mind, much?" Sokka teased. "I was gonna say 'neck', but yes, also the thing  _ you're  _ thinking of."

Zuko shook his head, smirking. "And we'll do those things too," he said. "We'll just also, you know, talk like adults occasionally."

" _ Boo _ …" Sokka said, but Zuko just pulled him into another tight hug.

"I love you," he whispered again, and it still made Sokka's heart thud in his chest. 

"I love you too," he said back, snuggling into him, "but also it's your turn to share again because I confessed my weird shit and hangups with saying 'I love you', so what about you? Why hadn't you said anything before today? What made you realize?"

"Of course you'd turn it back on me," Zuko said, sitting back a little bit as he let him go. 

"You started it."

"No, you definitely started it way back last week!"

"Now you're just stalling," Sokka said, poking him in the leg. "So come on." He smiled. "Just give me a sentence."

Zuko narrowed his eyes at him once and then sighed. "Fine. I wasn't sure I loved you, because I don't think I've actually... loved anyone before. Not romantically at least." He bit and then let his bottom lip go, looking away out at the street. "So I'm pretty sure I've only ever felt this way about you, and it took a bit for me to know what it was." He looked aside at Sokka again. "So there, that was like three sentences."

Sokka just continued looking at him in surprise. 

"Oh," he said finally. "Well damn."

Zuko gave a low sort of rumble of laughter. "Well, like I said, you started it and you asked, so there it is."

"So this… this is the  _ serious _ shit," Sokka muttered, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the cold tip of Zuko's nose. "You, like,  _ love _ me, love me."

Zuko rolled his eyes and pulled away. "Don't make it weird."

"Oh I'm gonna," Sokka announced. "I've been holding in my ultra romantic dumbass side, but we've opened the gates now!"

"This was you  _ holding it in _ ?"

"Well obviously."

"Then I take it back!" Zuko said, but he couldn't repress the glint in his eyes.

"Oh, no take-backsies, my dude," Sokka said. "I'm your problem for real now! You know all my garbage and I know all yours and we fucking  _ love each other _ ." 

"You're ridiculous."

"Yeah, and you  _ love  _ it." He lay a hand over his chest. "Only you can keep this heart of mine beating, Dr. Zuko."

Zuko huffed and stood back up, extending a hand that Sokka accepted.

"Has anyone ever told you that you use humor as a defense mechanism?"

"I mean, obviously," Sokka replied. "But that's just another way of saying 'wow, Sokka, you're hilarious'."

Zuko pulled him in and put his arm around his shoulders again.

"How much peace and quiet would it buy me if I fed you?" he asked, tugging him forward again and toward a little patisserie.

"Oh at least five minutes," Sokka said. "Ten if the food's  _ really _ good."

"I'll take it," Zuko said with a grin and steered him toward the front door.

Afterward, filled with pastries and coffee, they returned to wandering the streets and engaging in far more PDA than they ever had before, what with constantly touching each other and pausing to kiss every so often and being very openly happy to be with the other, and there were a few uncomfortable looks. Not terribly, though, considering, and one girl walking by said they made a really cute couple, but their existence also clearly made some people feel weird. They were a gay-performing, interracial couple in the Midwest after all, but they weren’t about to be deterred by it now. 

Their wanderings actually circled them back past the Jasmine Dragon again, which circled the conversation back as well. They chatted a little more about what had happened between Zuko and his uncle while Sokka was with Azula, and then what Sokka and Azula had talked about too.

Sokka tried to find a semi-diplomatic but also marginally truthful way to explain what Azula had said, but doing that also brought some less pleasant concerns to his mind, things he couldn't quite settle in his brain. He turned these thoughts over mentally, considering that odd nervousness, and they walked another block in silence.

“Ok, now you’re being too quiet,” Zuko said as they crossed the street. “There was a dog back there and you didn’t say anything to  _ or _ about it, so what’s going on?”

"Oh just… Azula," Sokka replied, shaking his head. "I just… some of the things she said about you still sorta bug me."

Zuko frowned, looking aside at him. "Like what?"

Sokka sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Like you couldn't… actually love me for real, or that I'd just get hurt dating you, and, most weirdly, that you'd hit people you were dating--"

"Fuck's sake," Zuko groaned, pulling Sokka closer and stopping them for a moment so he could hug him, ignoring the fact that they were in the middle of the sidewalk. "I swear to god, Sokka, I did get in fights as a kid, but I’ve  _ never  _ hit anyone like that, and I would  _ never  _ hurt you that way." His hands squeezed tighter at Sokka's back. "And I… yeah, love is sort of weird for me and I'm still a mess, but I know how I feel about you, what you mean to me and I--"

Sokka could see this quickly spiraling into a Zuko Angst Day, so he stopped him with a kiss on the side of the head. 

"I know you, Zuko," he said securely. "I  _ know  _ who you are."

Zuko drew back to look at him, eyes bright. 

"It's just Azula," Sokka said, "that I don't get--does she really think that stuff is true about you? Is it a weird game with her?" 

"Who fucking knows?" Zuko grumbled. "Azula’s a  _ master _ at getting in people’s heads and I seriously used to tell myself that she always lies so… I don't know. But I  _ know _ I'd do anything I can," he added, cupping Sokka's cheek, "to make you happy and keep you safe, whatever Azula thinks of me."

Sokka remembered Iroh's words from earlier and smiled, leaning into the warmth of Zuko's hand. 

“Azula’s got issues,” he said wryly, and Zuko raised an eyebrow, “but I think, in her own fucked up way, she really was trying to protect me, and maybe you too. I don’t know. But I do know that conversation was the reason I realized I loved you, so we can’t be  _ too _ mad at her for it.” He turned his head to press a kiss into Zuko's palm

“I can still be mad at her,” Zuko grumbled, but he’d definitely relaxed again, his expression softer. "But we're ok, right?"

"Of course we are, my sweet beloved," Sokka said with a wide smile, and Zuko snorted.

"God these names are ridiculous," he said immediately, blushing a little, and shifted to take Sokka's hand again. 

They wandered a little longer through town, quieter this time and inadvertently working their way toward the car again. Sokka still found himself prickled with thoughts and worries and strangeness, but at least Zuko was beside him, near him, hand in hand with him.

"Come home with me tonight," Zuko said as if reading Sokka's mind. "Stay at my place."

"Sleepover?" Sokka teased, and Zuko grinned.

"Yeah, except with less weird games and more 'never leaving my bed'," Zuko replied. "Be clingy and stupid with me."

" _ Now  _ you're speaking my language," Sokka replied and followed him the rest of the way to the car.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the epitome of what I told one commenter: "healthy communication and being good to each other - that's the sexy shit, right?" So that's what you have here :)

It was the middle of the night, and Sokka woke up alone. 

Well, mostly alone. Dragon was still curled up at the foot of the bed, having snuck up there once Sokka and Zuko had fallen asleep, and Lucky seemed to be on top of the dirty clothes in the laundry basket in the corner, his eyes shining in the dark, but Zuko was gone. It was dark within, just a highlight coming in around the window, so Sokka reached across the bed to be sure Zuko hadn't just moved away and curled into an unrecognizable lump. But no, the bed was definitely empty other than the cat, and the apartment was dark and silent around him. Sokka untangled his legs from the blanket and sat at the edge of the bed, some odd worry nudging at his chest, because today had been a lot but it had been  _ good _ . They loved each other, and after wandering downtown, they'd come back to Zuko's apartment and spent many stupid, languid hours just talking and being together and touching each other like the rest of the world could fuck right off and leave them behind. They'd started, of course, with kissing and stumbling toward the bedroom, shedding clothes along the way as soon as the door shut behind them. But then, afterwards while they lay in a warm, contented pile, they'd talked. Actually talked.

They'd traded stories about their families--the funny, the sad, the difficult--and they'd talked about childhood friends and silly preferences and old memories and each other.

“I hope you realize,” Zuko had offered, sitting back against the headboard, “I’m basically a stray cat of a person.” At Sokka’s quizzical expression, he grinned and added, “You were nice to me and brought me in out of the cold, so now if you want me gone, you’re gonna have to straight up chase me back into the street.”

Sokka let out a surprised laugh and propped his cheek against Zuko’s knee. 

“Yeah, well, then you should know I’m one of those big dogs who thinks it's still a lap dog,” he’d replied, “so if you’re my person, be prepared for me to just plop myself on top of you and refuse to move unless you shove me off.”

“I guess that works then.” Zuko’s smile was easy as he leaned forward to kiss him.

They'd talked more about past relationships, about themselves and the people before: the dates, the learning experiences, the heartbreaks. They'd talked about the examples of love they'd grown up with--all strangely broken, all strangely lacking, all fragmented in some way. They'd been honest and mocking and pained in whatever way felt necessary, and they'd interspersed it with kisses and teasing and a kind of ease. They needed to be better at talking, and they tried. So in those softer hours of the night, they'd voiced a lot of the other small, nervous things they'd both been carrying around, too afraid to say until the safety of darkness and the familiar walls of Zuko's bedroom made it possible.

“You’re gonna meet someone better than me,” Zuko had muttered into Sokka’s shoulder as they leaned together against the headboard, “and I’m gonna know it and have to let you go so you can be happier with someone else.”

“Um, does future me get any say in this?” Sokka replied, petting his head. “Or are you straight up White Fang-ing me in this hypothetical scenario? Because that sucks.”

“I don’t know what a lot of that means,” Zuko confessed into his skin, “but the point still stands that you’ll meet someone better for you--better  _ to _ you.”

“Nah,” Sokka said simply, pulling back to look at him, “how could another person possibly match the mix of brains, body, kindness, and absolutely stupid opinions that you bring to the table? Answer: they couldn’t." He smiled. "You’re perfect, remember?”

Zuko’s lips lifted then, and Sokka felt the need to be a little more serious again as he met the other man's eyes.

"I keep choosing you," he said quietly, "to be with you. To love you. And I don't see that stopping anytime soon."

There was something a little bright in Zuko's eyes.

"You can't just… say shit like that," he replied, voice tight. "What the fuck, Sokka?"

"Eh, fuck it. I'm tired of not saying the things I wanna say," Sokka argued, "and you love me now, so you gotta put up with it."

Zuko smiled again, hesitant and gentle. "I do, do I?"

Instead of responding, Sokka kissed him again and held him close and then muttered a long string of the most ridiculous pet names he could come up with until Zuko tried to hit him with a pillow.

"You're gonna get sick of me," Sokka had confessed later around a lump in his throat as he lay on his side, looking at the exposed arch of Zuko's collarbones as he lay on his back rather than at his face, too afraid to see agreement in his eyes. "Eventually you'll get sick of the noise and the chaos and the missed signals and  _ you'll _ be the one to move on. Not me."

Zuko had rolled to his side and then tipped up Sokka’s chin so their eyes met.

"I won't," he'd murmured back.

"You could."

"I don't think so, just like you think you won't meet someone better than me. I'm not getting sick of you," he said, simply and easily like it wasn't some sort of declaration, like he could just know, just like that. And then, to make it even worse, he added quietly, "I'm pretty sure you're it for me, Sokka."

Sokka stared at him, unblinking in the dim-lit room.

"Well damn, Zuko… you can't just say shit like that," Sokka echoed, and Zuko simply smiled and stroked his cheek. And it was so gentle then that Sokka sort of wanted to run because it was too much to feel all at once. Instead of running, he knitted his hand with Zuko's and held.

"My dad's gonna get out eventually," Zuko had said in a later conversation, his head in Sokka's lap and the worry in his expression pulling his scar into sharper relief, his face into a grimace. "He'll get out and he'll tear my life apart, everything I've built, because he can. Because I'm daring to be happy without his approval."

"I won't let him," Sokka had answered, stroking his fingers over Zuko's face: the lines of his jaw, the slopes of his cheeks, the arches of his brow bones. "I'll fight tooth and nail to keep him away from you, no holds barred. Whatever I have to do, I’m gonna protect you."

Zuko had looked up at him, skeptical and small. "You couldn't."

"I could," Sokka replied. "To quote John Mulaney, 'you know how I'm full of rage?' Because I am."

Zuko had grunted a laugh then, something loosening in him once more. 

"You're not," he'd said, shifting to settle more firmly in Sokka's lap.

"About your dad?" Sokka challenged, stroking his fingertip along the edge of Zuko's scar. "About protecting you? I am. And I’ll swear on whatever you want me to swear on that I’m gonna keep your dad away from you in any way I possibly can.”

Zuko had watched him and then reached up to pull him into an upside-down Spiderman-style kiss, their lips fitting together, and Sokka had smiled into it. 

“How’d I find somebody who loves the way you do? It doesn't make any sense," Zuko murmured as they drew apart.

“You took a chance on a guy screaming at you off a balcony,” Sokka reminded. “High risk, high reward, apparently.”

And Zuko laughed for a moment, something relaxing through him again, and Sokka savored it, savored that moment, this strange thing they’d created between them.

For a while, they’d talked about Zuko’s dad, about his sister, about that person he used to be, and then Sokka found it in himself to talk about his mom too, about that loneliness of missing his old home and yet also hating parts of it, of not really knowing who he was anymore, what he was supposed to be anymore. It was strange and tense, fighting that impulse to dance around those issues, to keep them buried, still struggling to find the words and the honesty between them.

"Hey, um, I might have more sentences," Sokka had confessed carefully deep in the night.

Zuko raised his head from where he'd had it dropped on his hands.

"Well, they might more be questions," Sokka said.

"Ok?" Zuko replied, shifting to look at him. 

But Sokka couldn't look back, and instead watched the light on the ceiling and the corner where it met the wall. "How do I… keep doing enough for you?" he asked.

"Doing enough?" Zuko repeated, sounding confused.

"You know. How do I keep making sure I'm useful enough to keep around? Like, how can I make sure to do the right things and be…" Sokka swallowed and stared at the ceiling, "good enough that you don't wanna leave?"

When Zuko didn't respond for a while, Sokka looked over again. Zuko was staring at him with startled eyes.

"You think," he said slowly, "if you're not useful enough I'll… leave you?"

Sokka grunted and looked away. "Yeah, it sounds stupid when you say it like that--"

"No! No that's not what I was doing," Zuko said immediately.

"--it's just all my friends were really amazing when I was younger--top athletes and students and leaders and all that and I was just sort of 'ok' at a bunch of things." He stared at the ceiling again. "And then the people I loved kept leaving or getting taken away--my mom died, and Dad had to leave to work, and Yue moved, and Suki didn't wanna stay together in college, and the first boy I kissed literally turned on me and let me get beat up and--and--" He shut his eyes, trying not to feel it. "And I couldn't do anything about any of it, couldn't fix it, wasn't enough for them to stick with me." The words were coming out in a kind of storm now, unstoppable and wild. "And then I find  _ you _ , and you're smart and strong and gorgeous and literally  _ save lives _ for your job, and… here's me." Sokka gestured to himself sharply and finally opened his eyes again. "And all I can offer you is this."

"And that's… not enough?" Zuko asked carefully, still watching him with that strange expression which Sokka could only see from the corner of his eyes.

"I mean, come on," Sokka said, "I'm just the guy that's… regular." He tried for humor then, because that was easier, safer. "Sure, I'm hot and a good cuddler and love you and shit but that can't be  _ enough _ ." But he couldn't hold the joking tone for long and finally looked at Zuko. "So just... tell me what to do. Tell me how to keep you around."

Zuko stared at him for a long moment, the room very quiet.

"Why's that stuff not enough?" he asked.

Sokka rolled to face him. "What do you mean?"

"Why is you being here and loving me not enough?" Zuko persisted, voice thick. "Sokka, do you not realize how  _ huge _ that is from someone like you? What you're offering me right now?"

Sokka watched his face. "So, what?" He gave a light laugh. "If we just hung out and argued about dumb shit and I hugged you sometimes and told you I loved you, that'd be enough. Just that. Just me," he gave a stupid finger guns in Zuko's direction, "makin' jokes and holdin' hands and telling you how great you are."

Zuko blinked at him once. "Are you kidding?  _ Yes  _ that would be enough! That  _ is  _ enough. That's…" he moved to lean over Sokka now, staring down into his face while Sokka watched him in surprise. "You have no idea, do you? What it feels like to be cared about by someone like you? What an enormous and incredible gift that is?"

"I…" Sokka replied, staring up at Zuko's earnest face, "I don't do anything special."

"Sokka," Zuko said seriously, "do you realize how many people would have just walked out the moment I dropped that shit on them at the tea shop? Or the amount of people who would have slammed the door in my face when I came crawling back after almost a week? How many people when I unpacked that shitshow of a history would have turned tail and run? But not you."

Sokka stared up at him, feeling a little suffocated by the look in his eyes, the power in his expression. 

"You do  _ everything _ ," Zuko finished fiercely. "You  _ are  _ everything. Just you. Like this. Being someone kind and funny and supportive who just--without thought or expectation--takes on a fully fucked up disaster like me and says 'nah, I'm gonna see the good in that anyway and love it'." Zuko shook his head. "You have  _ no idea _ what that means to me, what that probably meant to everyone who's gotten to be loved by you. Christ, Sokka," Zuko finished almost sharply, "you--just you, just like this, is absolutely  _ incredible _ ." 

Sokka stared at him, at the intense vehemence in his face, and it didn't make any sense, did something strange to his chest. 

"I'm… out of sentences again," he finally offered. 

Zuko's expression softened. 

"That's ok," he said and bent to kiss his forehead. "I used up a bunch myself, more than I meant to, but god, Sokka. I have to make you understand somehow that you are so much more than enough just as you are."

It was too big, too strong. It didn't make sense. He couldn't hold it all. Sokka rolled again to pull himself against Zuko’s chest, wrap his arms around his back. It felt safe there, face into his sternum and that warm, familiar smell, because there was something too fierce, too powerful, about those words that cut right through to some fragile thing in Sokka’s center that he didn’t like to let himself feel. And Zuko held on to him, curled around him, and didn't let go.

They'd laid that way for a while before shifting to something more casual, more easy. They’d spent a little time tracking over freckles and old scars and all those little abnormalities that made each one unique, pressing kisses to chests and arms and sides, running fingers over thighs and shoulder blades and foreheads, half laughing, half reverent.

It was late, too late again, and they felt it as they moved back to just laying together, teetering at the edge of sleep. Sokka kissed the vertebrae on the back of Zuko's neck and whispered "I love you" to his skin while folding the other man back against his chest. Then Zuko had reached back over his head, burying his hand in Sokka's hair.

"We might not last, you and me," Zuko had worried at last in a small voice, still tucked against him, Sokka's arms tight around his waist. "I know I love you and that you love me too, but it's only been a few months and we’re  _ damaged _ , both of us. How's that supposed to keep working?"

Sokka shifted, raising his head to kiss just behind Zuko's ear.

"I can't see the future," Sokka said, kissing into the dip of his neck, "and astrology's bullshit, so who knows where we'll end up, if we'll work out? But…" He tucked his face down against Zuko's neck and pulled him even closer. "I'm here now. Right here. And I'm not planning to go anywhere. How about you?"

Zuko found Sokka's hand and brought it up to his lips, his fingers wrapped around his palm as he pressed a kiss to the knuckles.

"I'm not going anywhere," he murmured back, and the night felt long and new and frightening and eternal all at once.

Sokka didn't remember falling asleep, and he had to imagine it had happened somewhere mid conversation, between one blink and the next. But now he was awake and Zuko was gone and he felt an immediate, concerned pull to find him. He stood, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and tracked down some clothes. He ended up in some lounge pants and a very cozy sweatshirt, which he only realized as he headed out into the darkened apartment, was Zuko's EMT sweatshirt. Sokka tucked his hands in the pocket and looked for Zuko.

It didn't take long. He found him under the stars again out on his balcony by the pots that had once held flowers, his hands around the cold railing. At some point he'd apparently grabbed one of Sokka's zip-up hoodies he’d left here and thrown it on, and Sokka appreciated the irony of their current clothing situation as he approached him from behind. When he got close enough, he wrapped his arms gently around Zuko's chest and stomach, propping his chin on his shoulder. Zuko didn't acknowledge him except to lay a hand across Sokka's forearm, the still, autumn air making him cool to the touch and the full moon turning everything to a kind of black and white. 

"You stole my sweatshirt," Zuko noted.

"You stole mine too," Sokka pointed out, and Zuko rubbed a thumb over his arm.

"You should still be sleeping," he murmured after a moment of quiet, tipping his face toward Sokka's.

"So should you, love," Sokka replied, trying out the endearment. It came easily, and he felt Zuko smile.

They stood another moment like that, looking out across the grass between their apartment building and the street, the couple of trees beside the sidewalk, the openness of it all stretched before them.

Zuko sighed, soft and quiet for him. "Woke up and couldn't get back to sleep," he said.

Sokka nodded into his shoulder. "Are you brooding?" he asked with a bit of a smile, softening the comment with a kiss to the side of Zuko's neck.

"Probably," Zuko admitted.

"About?"

"Everything."

"Well, that's too much for the middle of the night."

"You don't have to convince me of that fact," Zuko replied with a tired sort of grimace, "but that doesn't make it go away."

Sokka shifted, tucking one hand into the front pocket of the hoodie Zuko was wearing and rubbing his fingers over Zuko’s stomach through the fabric. 

"Wanna talk about it?" he asked.

Zuko turned his head to look at him from the corner of his eye, the unscarred side of his face the only thing visible, his irises turned dark in the moonlight. 

"We've talked too much today," Zuko replied, and Sokka gave a low chuckle.

"Agreed," he replied. "We oughta be good on feelings talk for at least a year right?"

"God I hope so," Zuko said, "because today… today was a damn rollercoaster," he smiled just a little, "and I think my brain needs Dramamine."

Sokka snorted a laugh, surprised. “Who knew you were funny?”

“Of course I am,” Zuko replied. “You think I could’ve pulled you if I didn’t have a sense of humor?”

Sokka hummed into his neck. "I guess that's fair. Not sure how to get you mental Dramamine though.” He rested his cheek on Zuko’s shoulder. “What would that even be? Sedatives? Therapy? Weed?"

Zuko chuckled a little.

"I don't know how to get you any of those things," Sokka repeated, snuggling his face closer again. "But... I'm here."

Zuko rotated a little more to rest their heads together. "Then are you ok just standing here with me for a little while?"

"You think I'll work as mental Dramamine?"

"Yeah maybe," Zuko said, smiling a little. "You mind?"

"Not at all," Sokka said, hugging him a little tighter. "Take as long as you need, and I'll be here with you."

So they stood out on the cold balcony together as the night wore on in its quiet around them, and for once, Sokka's brain was actually quiet too. Instead of a spin of thoughts and stimuli and sound, he was just aware of Zuko breathing, aware of the feel of him in his arms, aware of all the places their bodies connected. All the worries, the thoughts, the jumble of it all seemed, at least for the moment, to have been ironed out, to have been voiced and set aside. What a thought. Sokka let himself shut his eyes and just rest in it, this little oasis, and he didn't know how long they stood there together under the moon.

Zuko finally began to move, which took Sokka out of the near-doze he'd been in on his shoulder, and Sokka raised his head. Zuko looked over and met his eye.

"I love you," he said softly. 

“I love you too,” Sokka murmured back with a smile. “Where’d that come from?”

“Just you,” Zuko replied, “being here.”

“As long as you want,” Sokka said, and he wasn’t sure why it sounded so much like a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again SO MUCH to all of you who've read and kudos-ed and commented and chatting with me and explained your interpretations and dealt with my crazy over-excited responses! You all are amazing, and if you ever wanna talk more about anything, please pop over to tumblr (onmyliteraturebullshitagain) and hang out with me.
> 
> Also, I continue to have no chill and have a few more stories for this series already written and in the revision stage, so I'll start post those after the holidays. 
> 
> Also also, looks like I might be posting a Zukka Modern College AU based on a tumblr post at some point too, so keep an eye out for that if you'd like to see me explore Zukka in a very different style. :)


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